


A Big Cop in a Small Hotel

by SeeThemFlying



Series: Big Cop Series [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Brienne loves this but HATES this, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst and Murder, Fluff and Murder, Jaime is an over-enthusiastic soon-to-be dad, Modern AU, Murder Mystery, silliness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:35:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 69,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23207857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeThemFlying/pseuds/SeeThemFlying
Summary: When Ned Stark is awarded a posthumous prize for services to policing, a heavily pregnant Brienne, Jaime, and the rest of the Casterly Constabulary troop on down to The Winterfell Hotel for the award ceremony. However, when bad weather prevents the guests from leaving, things take a sinister turn due to a series of threatening messages, suspicious deaths, and one of the Constabulary's own going missing.With their due date round the corner, can Jaime and Brienne solve the mystery? Or will the mystery get to them first?
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Robb Stark/Margaery Tyrell, Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark, Tyrion Lannister/Shae
Series: Big Cop Series [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1537969
Comments: 319
Kudos: 160





	1. Minibus

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! As there is a global pandemic on, I decided to sod my own rules about cutting my number of WIPs down and just write Big Cop III which I have been promising for ages. 
> 
> As this is the third part of a series, you may wish to read the other two stories first. In chronological order, they are 1) A Big Cop in a Small Town and 2) Big Cop II. If not, I have tried to keep this story as self contained as possible, so I hope you can read it as a standalone.
> 
> There is a short prologue to this story which can be found in my "Many Flavours of Ice Cream" collection. It is Chapter 20 "No One Can Know" and sets up the main mystery, so please read that if you are interested!
> 
> Just for a recap, here are the police officers who are members of the Casterly Constabulary (in order of rank): Chief Inspector Brienne Lannister-Tarth, Detective Sergeant Robb Stark, Detective Constable Robb Arryn, Sergeant Sandor "The Hound" Clegane (and his police dog Joff), Sergeant Jaime Lannister-Tarth, Sergeant Margaery Tyrell, Constable Jon Snow, Constable Podrick Payne, and Constable Arya Stark (the newest recruit). Sergeant Ilyn Payne used to work as a police officer in Casterly, but he is now retired!
> 
> I hope you enjoy and please consider leaving comments and kudos!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Casterly Constabulary prepare for a weekend away...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you have enjoyed this chapter, please leave comments and kudos. They keep me young and make my heart sing.

“Wench?”

“Mmm?”

“Are you alright?”

Brienne tried not to huff at Jaime, but it was quite difficult considering she had just been having a very pleasant dream which he had interrupted. “Well, I was until you just woke me up.”

“Sorry," he smiled, leaning across to kiss her on the forehead. "I didn’t realise you were sleeping.” 

Brienne was not quite sure _how_ Jaime had missed it. It was patently obvious. They were both squashed together on two tiny seats towards the back of the _Night’s Watch_ minibus, so she had settled her head on her husband’s shoulder to snooze, and consequently left a little puddle of drool seeping through his nice shirt. In return, Jaime’s hand was resting on her swollen belly, which was almost fit to burst after eight months of cooking the newest Lannister-Tarth.

Trying to wriggle to be a little more comfortable, Brienne sat up straight, but Jaime point blank refused to stop stroking her tummy, or move his other arm from around her shoulders, meaning she was essentially locked in position. However, given his soft expression, it felt cruel for her to retreat from him, so instead she snuggled back into him and closed her eyes.

Her new peace did not last long.

“Wench?”

“Mmm?” she responded, keeping her eyes shut.

“Do you want your packed lunch I made you? Yoren the driver says we won’t be at _The Winterfell Hotel_ for at least another forty-five minutes, and I thought you might be hungry.”

At his rather sweet question, Brienne slung her arm around his waist once more, before opening her eyes. “Oooh, you might tempt me. I’ve been so fussy with what I’ve been eating during this pregnancy, that I would much rather one of your cheese sandwiches than whatever is going to be conjured up for us at _The Winterfell Hotel.”_

“Hey!” interrupted Robb Stark, turning around in his seat like a kid on a coach trip to talk to Brienne, “my Aunt Lyanna has a top chef at _The Winterfell Hotel._ I’m sure whatever he will rustle up for us will be _excellent.”_

“I’m sure,” replied Brienne with a teasing smile, “although given the fact that Jaime’s kid has been playing football with my internal organs all day, I think I might only be able to cope with one of Jaime’s sandwiches.”

From her position next to Robb, Margaery swivelled in her seat too, and raised her eyebrow at Brienne. “As long as _Jaime’s sandwiches_ are not some type of euphemism. We’ve all seen enough of you two going at it to last a lifetime.”

While Brienne’s expression turned sullen at that inappropriate joke, Jaime laughed. "Oh Margaery,“ grinned Jaime, his smile almost predatorial. "Robb has made a huge mistake of inviting me and my wench to a five star hotel with a sauna, underground hot springs, and very plush four poster beds. There are loads of things me and dirty minded wife could dream up that would leave you scarred for life.”

Brienne rolled her eyes to object. “I do _not_ have a dirty mind!”

“Yes you do,” replied Jaime, a cut-glass smile curling across his lips. “What about the time when we…?”

“SHUT UP!” cried the rest of the occupants of the minibus, who mostly consisted of their colleagues in the Casterly Constabulary, their families, and friends. In response, Brienne shot Jaime a warning look. If he kept talking, she knew this was going to be a very, very, _very_ long and embarrassing forty-five minutes until they arrived at the hotel.

Sensing the approaching awkwardness, Tyrion spoke up from the front of the minibus. "Can somebody _please_ change the direction of the conversation so that I do not have to listen to my brother soliloquise about his love life?" Unfortunately, to that question, there was only a long silence as it became clear that the members of the Casterly Constabulary had nothing interesting to contribute, especially as they were all off duty and did not actually have to talk about police stuff. Consequently, Tyrion huffed in annoyance. "Seriously, doesn't _anyone_ have a potential conversation topic that is not about where my brother sticks his dick?"

"Hey..." said Jaime warningly, rearranging how he was sitting ever so slightly, meaning Brienne had to move with him. "Don't talk about my wife like that."

"I do," came a voice from the back of the bus.

Brienne turned around to spot Sansa, who was wedged on the back row with the Hound, Joff, and Shae.

"What? Talk about my wife like that?" asked Jaime confusedly, as Sansa rolled her eyes.

"No! I mean I've got something to talk about."

Tyrion smiled relievedly, glad for the opportunity to change the topic. "Go ahead, Sansa. What have you got to say?"

"My dad won a posthumous policing prize," she said with a shit-eating grin, as she was well aware what commotion _that_ suggestion would start. On cue, her proposed conversation topic just elicited a loud groan in everybody else.

"Can we go back to discussing Jaime and Brienne's sex life?" grumbled the Hound, which earned a disapproving nudge from Sansa.

Ever since Brienne had entered the staffroom several months ago to tell her colleagues that Central Office had been in touch to inform her that Ned Stark would be winning a posthumous policing prize for his work in attempting to bring down Tywin Lannister and the NWA, the Starks had been insufferable. Although it had mostly been Brienne herself who was silently pushing for Ned to be recognised for the sterling work that had ultimately got him killed, Robb in particular had been acting as if it were all his doing and that, somehow, he had inherited his father's renown. Right on cue, Robb got the cutting from the _Casterly Citizen_ -which detailed everything about his father's award - from the inside pocket of his jacket. He had been carrying it around for weeks, and never wasted an opportunity to get it out and boast about it, often reading it at length. Sensing this was precisely where he was going, Margaery held up her hand to object.

"Robb, we've all heard this before," she complained, "and, to be honest, this is mainly why I left Alerie at home with Grandma Olenna; I _don't_ want her first words to be the by-line of that bloody article." Sticking a hand in her face and jokingly pushing her away, Robb cleared his throat as if ready to start to read. The objections started almost instantly.

"Robb, no!" cried the Other Robb, his mouth full of sweets. "Please no!"

Ilyn made a gesture that could only be translated as _MY EARS!_ while Shae buried her face in her hands. The only person with a divergent opinion was Sansa. "I want to hear it!" she called, cupping her hands around her mouth so she could bellow down the length of the minibus. "I'll never get bored of it!"

"Thank you, Sansa," said Robb, clearly gratified that he was receiving some support from the crowd. "I am very proud of the fact that my dad has won a posthumous policing award, so can you all please let me read out the article from the _Casterly Citizen?"_

Margaery rolled her eyes as she extracted Robb's hand from her face. "Alright, go ahead. But you've read it so many times now _I_ could probably recite it."

Ignoring her teasing, Robb cleared his throat as if her were about to start a Shakespearean soliloquy. "CASTERLY COP GETS POLICING AWARD PRESENTED BY BARRISTAN SELMY. Article by Sarah Lemore."

"Did you have to shout that?" asked Jaime from his position directly in front of Robb.

"What do you expect me to do?" asked Robb tersely, pointing at the article. "It's all in capitals. Now, will everyone just shut up and listen? We've got a long journey and me reading the article may distract us."

As Robb seriously _had_ read the article out so many times everyone had lost count, everyone rolled their eyes and got into a more comfortable position to listen to the story. There was no stopping Robb, after all. Using his prosthetic hand, Jaime settled Brienne's head back on his shoulder, planted a quick kiss on her forehead, then rested his cheek on the top of her head. Noting Jaime's gesture, Robb made a disgusted little _tsk_ sound with the tip of his tongue before starting his recital.

"If the residents of Casterly were to ever look back into their town's past in search of a hero," began Robb, with a rich baritone narration that sounded as if it belonged at the beginning of a bad sci-fi film, "no names would perhaps shine so brightly as Eddard Stark, better known as Sergeant Ned, who was one of the best loved police officer's this small town has ever had."

"Was a poll taken on that question?" asked Margaery, raising her hand, "because I think I am a pretty good police officer, and I think it should at least be put to a vote."

"No one would vote for _you,_ " laughed the Hound gruffly, before feeding Joff, who was sitting beside him, a biscuit.

Margaery pouted at the Hound sullenly. "Why not?"

"Because _I_ wrestled my giant brother in a supermarket and in doing so protected the whole town," said the Hound, somewhat proudly even though he was clearly trying to tease her. "I got concussion. I think I'd win."

Margaery scoffed derisively. "That's nothing. I co-ordinated a prison break."

"That was a team effort!" objected the Hound.

In spite of his valid point, it seemed Margaery was not accepting that line of argument, and returned the shot. " _And_ I hit a crazed shop assistant with a big yellow sign."

"Well I..."

"Hey!" interjected Jaime suddenly, fed up with their argument. "Nobody would vote for either of you, because my wench not only took down a murderous cult almost single-handedly, but she also rescued me from a crazy stalker who had me tied to a chair, and in doing so _pulled a knife from her own shoulder_ to cut that bitch like the total badass she is."

Brienne smiled up at Jaime; he really could be too sweet sometimes. Lifting her hand to his face, she slowly started to run a finger down Jaime's perfect jawline in anticipation of kissing him, when Robb Stark let out a little snort. Jaime turned to face him confusedly. "What?"

"Somebody is clearly trying to get in their wife's good books," Robb smirked, his eyes flicking between Jaime and Brienne mockingly. "This whole pregnancy thing hitting your sex life pretty hard, is it Jaime?"

At that statement, Brienne did not even have to look at Jaime to tell he was puffing up in defence of their sex life, as she could feel his chest expanding under her arm. "I'll have you know that me and my wench have sex _all the time,_ " Jaime said pompously. "All over the place, and..."

"HOW ARE WE BACK ON JAIME'S SEX LIFE AGAIN?" shouted Tyrion frustratedly from the other end of the bus, nearly pulling his hair out. "ROBB, CAN YOU PLEASE CONTINUE READING THE BLOODY NEWSPAPER ARTICLE FOR THE SAKE OF MY SANITY?"

Suddenly remembering that he was meant to be in the middle of an oration and _not_ mocking Jaime, Robb cleared his throat and then continued to read out the story of his father's police career. "Where was I? Oh yes... Sergeant Ned, who was one of the best loved police officer's this small town has ever had. Across a long career lasting over twenty-five years, Sergeant Stark was involved in solving many cases and much community work that exemplified his commitment to his job and the people of Casterly. In 1992, only a few weeks into his new role as a police constable, Ned and his first police partner, Jon Arryn, were involved unravelling a potential hostage situation at the _Lannisters_ superstore in Lannisport."

Surprised, Brienne turned so she could look at Robb Arryn. "Is that your dad, Robb?"

"Yeah," said Other Robb nonchalantly, while trying to get into a pack of _Tangfastics._ "He inspired me to go into the police service, just as Ned did Robb, so we are both just carrying on the family tradition."

Smiling in surprise, Brienne turned back to Robb Stark, who pressed on with his story. "A year later, Ned put his money where his mouth is in caring for others; after discovering a baby abandoned in the Wolfswood outside Casterly, him and his wife Catelyn looked after the little boy for a few months until more permanent accommodation could be found. That child, Jon Snow, 30, is now a constable at the Casterly Constabulary, and will be present at the prize giving ceremony later this month."

"Woo!" interjected Jon at his mention, before stealing a _Tangfastic_ from a slightly annoyed Robb Arryn. "Snow Rights!"

" _Yet,"_ continued Robb Stark, not wanting to be interrupted again, "the daring deeds that caused Sargeant Stark to win his award are perhaps the most impressive of all. After his childhood friend, businessman Robert Baratheon, was found dead in 2018, Ned became convinced he had been murdered and followed a trail of clues that led to uncovering the criminal activities of Tywin Lannister, 70, former Casterly police chief, and the rest of the local Neighbourhood Watch Alliance. Casterly's new Chief Inspector, Brienne Lannister-Tarth, 31, whose work was instrumental in securing the arrest of the members of the NWA, has been campaigning for several years for Sergeant Stark's role in the case to be recognised. 'Ned Stark was a dutiful and dedicated officer who gave his life for other people,' she said. 'It is only right that he is honoured for his sacrifice, and this award is a testament to how much Casterly appreciates his service.' The prize giving ceremony, hosted by Barristan Selmy, the Minister for Justice, will be held at the Winterfell Hotel outside Lannisport on Saturday 25th November."

Sansa started applauding enthusiastically once her brother had finished, giving Robb the opportunity to perform an over-the-top bow. As Robb did so, Jaime moved his mouth close to Brienne's ear so he could whisper to her. "You are the best thing about that article, wench," he purred. "You never even met Ned, but you put it all so perfectly."

"Stop being so soppy," she chuckled, nuzzling his shoulder. "Maybe Robb is right. Maybe you _are_ trying to get into my good books!"

Jaime grinned at her lasciviously and kept his voice low as he answered her. "Always, wench. I know we are meant to be going to the hotel for Ned's policing award, but we are also going to have a nice room with a comfy four-poster bed all to ourselves for a weekend. It is going to be one of the last times we can be together, just the two of us, before the baby arrives. So... maybe I _am_ trying to get into your good books, because I think we should make most of the opportunity presented to us. The second we arrive in that room, I'm planning on standing to attention and doing whatever you command me to."

Quite against her will, Brienne started blushing profusely at that risqué offer, but she managed to find the wherewithal to respond. "When you say _stand to attention...?"_

However, Brienne never got to finish her question as the whole minibus suddenly juddered violently to a halt, as if something internal was ripping it apart, before a plume of smoke erupted from the bonnet, obscuring everyone's view of the outside world.

"What the hell is happening?" mumbled Arya, the Constabulary's newest police officer, the jolt waking her up from the deep sleep she had been in ever since they left Casterly.

Spurred into action by his girlfriend's movements, Gendry looked up too, blinking confusedly. "Yeah, what's going on?"

A partial answer was provided by Yoren the driver, who let out a loud string of expletives as he stared at the unfolding disaster now out the front of the minibus. "Oh cocksuckingbastardsshitballswhoresonmotherfuckers."

"What's the matter?" asked Margaery, going a little pale as another plume of smoke burst out of the front of the minibus. This time, it was thicker and darker, and in places almost seemed black. It made the driver's face go pale.

"This thing is gonna blow!" shouted Yoren, suddenly recognising the gravity of the situation. "EVERYBODY OUT!"

His announcement did not seem to have the reaction that he had wanted, as the entirety of the Casterly Constabulary and their hangers on just stared at him confusedly. They were all on holiday, after all.

"DID YOU NOT HEAR ME?" he bellowed, a vein almost popping in his temple. "THIS THING IS GOING TO EXPLODE! EVERYBODY OUT!"

This time, the reaction was instantaneous. Margaery almost won the world record for a speedy exit. Pia screamed. Arya shoved Gendry out of the way so she could run off the minibus. The Hound pulled Joff into his arms, showing once and for all that his true love was not his girlfriend, Sansa, but his growly German Shepherd. Robb Arryn threw his packet of _Tangfastics_ in the air, while Bronn just shrieked.

Sensing Jaime was about to join in with the panic, Brienne put a reassuring hand on his wrist. "What, wench?" he asked, his expression gentling as she touched him.

"There's always a protocol to these things," she carefully, wanting to impress upon him that they were still police officers of the Casterly Constabulary, even if they were on holiday. "So, although we are off duty police officers, why don't we make an orderly exit from the bus, mmm?"

Jaime smiled at her crookedly. "Of course, wench. Whatever you say."

* * *

Five minutes later, the entirety of the Casterly Constabulary and their friends were standing at the side of a long, lonely country road, looking at the smouldering minibus with trepidation. Even though it had not yet actually exploded as Yoren had prophesised, their driver was on the phone, calling for help. Given the way he was screaming down the line, Brienne did not feel particularly reassured, especially as the temperature was slowly dropping. Consequently, she hung onto Jaime for comfort.

"I think it's going to snow," she said, placing one hand on her belly and rubbing it comfortingly. It was partly for herself, but mostly for the baby, who was nearly a whole person now. Brienne thought it quite miraculous; in a few short weeks, she would have him or her in her arms.

 _Mine and Jaime's baby,_ she mused happily, remembering the long and horrible fertility process they had had to go through to make it happen. Yet that was all in the past; soon, they would have a little baby with tiny hands and feet, who would be crying and hungry for milk and attention. Brienne sometimes found that thought a little overwhelming, even though she and Jaime had tried so long to get pregnant. Could they really be good parents?

 _I hope our baby has his eyes,_ Brienne thought warmly. _They are pretty spectacular, after all._

Sensing her pensiveness but perhaps not the reason for it, Jaime stood on his tiptoes to kiss her forehead. The cuteness of it made Brienne smile.

"Are you alright, wench?" he asked, his green eyes shining. "Not too cold? I've got all the baby stuff out of the bus so that we are prepared. We've got the birthing plan, some spare nighties, your slippers, flip-flops, your big knickers, a dressing gown, some energy drinks. The birth ball is in there too in case you want me to blow it up, and I've even packed the oil. I know you are fifty-fifty on me massaging you during the birth, but I've got it just in case."

Turning so she and Jaime were side to side so they were unimpeded by the bump, Brienne wrapped her arm around his waist and leant her head on his shoulder. It was easier cuddling that way. "Thank you for your preparedness..." she began, but Jaime cut across her.

"I've also got my iPhone speakers in case you want your mood music played, and I have got the blow-up birthing pool if you change your mind last minute about the water birth." Finishing his list, Jaime smiled at her, pleased. "As you can see, I am prepared for all eventualities."

"Yes," she observed, trying not to laugh. "Even me giving birth next to an exploding minibus on a cold country lane."

Sensing she was teasing him, Jaime narrowed his eyes at her, before putting his good hand on top of hers so the two of them could stroke her belly together. This was not unusual behaviour for Jaime. Ever since the start of her pregnancy, he had been fluttering around Brienne like an over-enthusiastic Mother Hen, desperately trying to make sure she was comfortable and prepared for what was to come. Wanting to help him feel involved with the pregnancy, Brienne had played along; she had remained silent when he had asked too many probing questions at the pre-natal classes, and when he had made her watch a weird Swedish documentary about natural childbirth, and even when he had taken to managing their diet to make sure it was optimal for pregnant women.

"Apparently you need extra protein," Jaime had said one evening, when he had cooked up a huge steak for her. "Don't worry. I've got it all planned out."

On one level, she found it sweet and reassuring, but on another... it was _bloody_ irritating. All her life Brienne had felt strong and in control when it came to her own physical capabilities, but now Jaime was treating her like an antique teacup he was scared he would drop and smash. His newfound delicacy had even translated to their sex life, where Jaime was now behaving as if she were some medieval maiden that he had to very carefully and delicately woo. If she was honest with herself, Brienne missed him being rough with her; she _missed_ the times they had sex on the floor just because they could, she _missed_ the hand cuffs and the blindfolds, and she _missed_ the way he used to eat her out with furious abandon. Yet, in spite of it all, Brienne had decided to be patient with him. The baby would be here soon, after all, so maybe things would soon be back to normal when Jaime was not so worked up and worried. Therefore, in spite of his fretting, Brienne turned Jaime's face towards her so she could kiss him. She knew his concern came from a good place, and she wanted him to feel bonded with their baby, even before he or she had actually turned up.

However, their romantic moment was quickly spoilt by Yoren, who was shouting expletives once more.

"Motherfuckingarsehatsbastardshitbananasballs."

"Quite," said Margaery tartly, appearing at Brienne's elbow. "Do you think Yoren has any plan for what we should do next? Because it is getting fairly cold out here... it is the middle of bloody November, after all."

Jaime nodded in agreement. "Yes, it is not good for Brienne to be outside in the cold."

"I'll be alright, it's only been five minutes..." Brienne began, but Jaime was clearly not having any of that.

"And you are eight months pregnant. You shouldn't be out in this temperature, and you especially shouldn't be standing up like this without support for so long," he said, clicking his tongue in annoyance.

Brienne tried not to roll her eyes as she repeated her earlier objection. "Jaime, it's only been five..."

"I'm going to speak to Yoren and find out what is going on," Jaime declared, before grabbing Brienne's hand and directing her over towards the driver, who had just got off the phone. Clearly not wanting to miss the action, Margaery trotted along behind them, swinging her arms. Once the three officers reached Yoren, Jaime let it rip. Clearly, he was not going to hold his tongue when his wench had been made to stand up for five minutes next to a slightly chilly country lane. "Oi! What's going on? My wife is eight months pregnant, and I can't have her standing outside in the cold next to a road where she might get run over by any passing car. So, you need to tell us what is happening."

At Jaime's slightly rude questions, Yoren turned to look at him, his face impassive. Unnerved, Jaime tried again. "I said, what's going on? Why don't you answer me?"

Yoren stared at him coolly. "You asked without manners, and I chose not to answer."

Puffed up on Lannister pride, Jaime was about to respond, so Brienne put a hand on his chest to calm him and then turned to Yoren with what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "My husband doesn't mean to be rude, Yoren, it is just that I _am_ pregnant, so I would like to get to my room at _The Winterfell Hotel_ as soon as possible. Can you give us some idea on what is happening with the minibus?"

At the question, the four of them turned to look at the minibus. Through the smoke being emitted from the bonnet, Brienne could just about make out _The Night's Watch Tours_ painted on the side but, all in all, she did not think the minibus was in very good shape. It seemed unlikely that they were going to be driving anywhere in it.

"I've called the minibus company and they are sending someone to tow us," declared Yoren, "but they won't be here for another hour."

"An hour!" squawked Jaime exasperatedly. "Brienne needs to be at the hotel as soon as possible! She cannot be waiting around here in the cold while we wait for a bloody tow truck!"

Yoren shrugged as if he really did not care. "If you don't want to wait for a tow truck, why don't you hitch hike?"

Not wanting to give on his indignant complaining, Jaime continued to do an impression of an annoyed parrot. "Brienne cannot _hitch hike!_ I listen to lots of true crime podcasts, and that is the best way of getting yourself murdered by a serial killer with a stupid moniker."

"Jaime," interrupted Brienne, trying to keep her tone even. "You are a police officer, so you also know that the likelihood of being murdered by a serial killer is infinitesimally small!"

"Says you who was almost decapitated by a murderous cult then framed for a string of deaths by my stalker," said Jaime challengingly, looking at her with a victorious glint in his eye.

Knowing he was right, Brienne conceded to his point, but continued with a related, but different, line of argument. "Even so, perhaps we should just wait for rescue. There's no point getting angry at Yoren or arguing with anybody, because we can't change the situation."

Backed up by years of Lannister entitlement, Jaime looked at her concernedly, "but you are _pregnant,_ wench, and I don't want you to be uncomfortable or unsafe."

"And I won't be," she smiled, knowing just which buttons to press to get him to calm down, "as long as I have my manly man here to protect me."

Softening as quickly as melting butter, Jaime blushed very prettily, just as Margaery started making vomiting sounds. "You two are disgusting, you know that?"

"Yeah," acknowledged Brienne as she gazed at Jaime, confident in her ability that she had settled the situation because of the little smile he was giving her. He really was so easy to persuade sometimes.

As the discussion about the state of the minibus had clearly ground to a halt, Yoren stomped off to inspect it more closely, while Margaery stuck two fingers in her mouth so she could whistle, summoning her boyfriend as efficiently as Captain von Trapp did his seven children in _The Sound of Music._

"What?" Robb Stark asked when he reached Margaery, tucking into a pack of _Tangfastics_ that had clearly been given to him by Robb Arryn.

"Do you have any idea for how we can get out of here quickly?" inquired Margaery, as if she already knew the answer. "Jaime is fretting about Brienne staying outside in the cold in her condition, so could you possibly call your Aunt Lyanna and get her to come pick us up?"

Looking as if he was impressed with Margaery's plan, Robb nodded and got his phone out of his pocket. "Sure thing. I don't think she could take all of us, but she could probably drive at least a handful in her car."

"Good enough," replied Margaery, following Robb as he turned away to call his aunt. "Although we should decide which of us gets a lift besides Jaime and Brienne..."

With Margaery and Robb off developing a plan, Brienne smiled at Jaime, hoping to be reassuring. "There. Are you happy now?'

" _Happier,_ " he conceded, squeezing her tightly against him. "It's just I want you in our hotel room as soon as possible."

She raised her eyebrows at him in surprise. "Why? Are you really that worried that I will go into labour with our child along the side of a not-very-busy country lane?"

"Partly," said Jaime carefully, before dropping his mouth close to her ear so he could whisper to her, all soft and seductive. "But mostly I am just in the mood for _standing to attention."_

Glad that she and her husband were playing a game they had not fully engaged in since the beginning of her pregnancy, Brienne fixed him with a teasing look. "Oh, Sergeant Lannister-Tarth, for all you pretend to be an upstanding member of the community, deep down you are a bad boy."

"And you love it, wench," Jaime purred, his eyes glittering. "You love it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter... Lyanna arrives to save the group...


	2. The Winterfell Hotel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Casterly Constabulary try to continue their journey to The Winterfell Hotel...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, thanks so much for coming back! I am so pleased to be writing this story again and it is great to be back in this world. As ever, I love to hear what you think in comments and kudos, so please let me know!

It had just started sleeting when two cars bearing the logo _The Winterfell Hotel_ eventually arrived next to the smouldering minibus, meaning that Jaime finally felt confident enough that he could stop holding his coat over Brienne's head as a makeshift umbrella. Having been with Brienne every step of the way along this pregnancy journey, Jaime did not want his wife to be uncomfortable beyond the necessary, especially as he knew all the drama that they had had to go through to even getting pregnant in the first place.

"You are shivering," chided Brienne lightly as Jaime stopped holding his coat over her head.

He smiled at her. "I know, but it doesn't matter about me. I was reading that it is very important for pregnant women to regulate their body temperatures, and..."

"Of course you were," she chuckled, rolling her eyes. "I've also read that it is very important for _husbands_ to regulate their body temperature too, and not take their winter coats off when it is bloody freezing."

Jaime pouted at his awkward wench as she smiled at him teasingly, her eyes glittering. "Not as important as pregnant women!"

"I don't know about that," she breathed, drawing closer to him. "Once we get to the hotel, we will both _need_ to take our winter coats off in order to regulate our body temperature... and other things as well."

There was something hungry in her eyes that was making Jaime feel quite flustered, especially as they were out in the open where anyone could hear them. " _Oh."_

"Yes," she purred, before bending forward to kiss him, her hand in her hair. "Oh."

If Jaime had been anticipating a quiet moment with his wife, his hopes were shattered when the driver of the first car leapt out and held his arms wide. "Everybody stay calm," he said with an arrogant swagger, "I am here to save you all!"

"Oh, bloody hell," sighed Margaery, the second she laid eyes on him. "It's..."

"THEON GREYJOY!" bellowed Robb Stark the second he spotted his old school friend. "You came!"

"Of course I did, I couldn't leave you all out in this weather, especially as it is apparently only going to get worse!" smiled Theon, as Robb pulled him into a bro hug. Margaery just rolled her eyes; she had not forgiven Theon for pissing in a flowerpot like it was a urinal at a house party a year earlier.

"Honestly," huffed Margaery, as Robb and Theon started communicating in a stream of jokes and references in a way that only very old friends could do, "am I really going to have to get in a car with him?"

As far as Jaime could see, the answer to that question appeared to be a _no_ as, just at that moment, the driver of the second car revealed herself. Jaime thought she looked familiar, but he did not instantly recognise her, which was strange as she was fairly striking. Slender and willowy, she was a woman of medium height who looked to be in her late-forties but wore it well. Crowned by a long cascade of dark brown hair that now appeared the colour of iron as it was streaked with grey, there seemed to be something of the wild about her. In fact, she very much reminded Jaime of Arya Stark at her most feral, albeit hidden behind a veil of well cultivated glamour.

The reason for the similarity became apparent in an instant.

"Aunt Lyanna," called Robb as he moved away from Theon to embrace the woman. "Thanks for coming to save us!"

"You are welcome, Robb," she replied, pulling her designer outdoors winter coat protectively around her. "Although my schedule is _packed_ trying to get prepared for this award ceremony, I could not leave my favourite nephew out in the cold."

While Robb looked very pleased with himself, Margaery let out a little laugh. "Don't let Bran hear you say that, Lyanna, he might run you over in his wheelchair!"

"I won't," she grinned, in a way that was almost girlish. "Now, as the weather is worsening, shouldn't we think about getting going? Especially if I am going to have to do two trips. Who is going in which car?"

As Robb and Margaery had been discussing it at some length as they waited for their rescuers to arrive, they already had the answer. "We've decided that Tyrion, Shae, Ilyn, The Hound, and Joff will go with Theon," said Robb, pointing out the appropriate people from the crowd. "We are hoping that having a dwarf will counterbalance the dog space-wise."

Jaime raised his eyebrow sceptically. "Have you met my brother? He will have talked poor Shae's ear off within half an hour."

"And that is why we've put _Ilyn_ in the car too," replied Margaery, laughing. "The mute will counterbalance the chatterbox."

As Brienne let out one of her huge guffaws - which always succeeded in making Jaime's heart do a backflip - Lyanna tried to turn the conversation towards more serious topics. "So, who will I have in my car?"

"Well," said Robb, holding out to gesture towards Brienne. "Firstly, you've got my boss Brienne and her husband Jaime. You've probably noticed she is heavily pregnant, so we didn't really want her waiting around in the cold unnecessarily."

At the mention of pregnancy, Lyanna smiled tightly at Brienne. Jaime thought there was something not quite friendly in the expression. "Congratulations," she said, her voice thin. "When are you due?"

Brienne went to answer, but Jaime cut across her as he slung his arm around her, suddenly feeling quite protective. "13th December, although if it all pans out, hopefully we will have a Christmas birthday, won't we wench?"

Brienne gazed at him pointedly. " _I_ don't want a Christmas birth. I want this baby out of me as quickly as possible."

"Sure," replied Jaime, attempting to be reassuring, even as a knot of worry began to tie itself in his belly. Jaime remembered that Tyrion had come early, when the only people in their house other than his mother had been Cersei and himself. He did not really remember much of what happened other than the blood... the blood and his Aunt Genna telling him in a sombre tone that his mother had died and would not be coming back. Looking at his heavily pregnant wench, normally so indestructible and strong, Jaime could not help but feel that she was vulnerable. She sometimes needed help getting out of chairs, was generally a lot more emotional than usual, and had told him in her darker moments that she was scared of the pain that would come during childbirth. At the time, Jaime had comforted her with reassuring platitudes, but inside he was in turmoil. He thought of his mother taken far too young - whose face he only recognised because of photographs - and of his stern father who had never smiled again after his wife died.

Jaime was already worried he was going to be a terrible father, yet he made his fears even worse by constantly replaying the nightmare of Brienne in his mother's place just to torment himself. It twisted him into a knot of nerves, yes, but it also ensured he was extra-vigilant in looking after his wife.

He could not bear it if history repeated itself, after all.

 _It will not happen again,_ he thought, squeezing Brienne's hip ever so slightly as if to root her more firmly in this world, to feel her under his fingers.

_It will not._

Luckily, right at that moment the practicalities of everyone getting to _The Winterfell Hotel_ before the bad weather setting in interrupted Jaime's train of thought, as Robb continued listing who was coming in Lyanna's car. "And then me and Margaery of course; Margaery is tiny so she can sit on my lap."

"I'm not _that_ tiny," said Margaery huffily, folding her arms across her chest.

In order to wind up his girlfriend, Robb repeated what he was saying for a second time. "Margaery is tiny _so_ she can sit on my lap, and that means we can get one more person in the car with us."

"And who is that?" asked Lyanna.

Robb did not answer her question directly, but instead by bellowing across the small gathering of people to summon the last person needed for the car. "Jon! Jon! Get over here! We've got to go!"

At Robb's shouting, the last occupant of the car came forward. Jon Snow was on crutches because, several weeks ago, he had got so drunk at the Avon & Somerset Police Commissioner's birthday party that he had stacked it on a garden gnome and broken his ankle. Consequently, it took him a little time to arrive next to Lyanna, but when he did, Robb's aunt smiled.

"Aunt Lyanna," said Robb, "this is Jon Snow. He is the last one we will be taking."

Given Robb's casual introduction, what happened next was quite weird. While Jon tried wave at Lyanna easily (which was a little difficult considering his crutches), Lyanna ignored that small gesture completely and leant forward and pecked him on the cheek. "Oh my, it is just wonderful to see you, Jon. Absolutely wonderful!"

Confused, Jaime shot a look at Brienne, who returned his intrigued gaze. There was something about the sunny way in which Lyanna was staring at Jon that reminded Jaime of the first time he himself had seen Brienne in a really knockout outfit (undoubtedly the blue masturbatory fantasy dress at Margaery's birthday party all those years ago). Just as Jaime had felt then, it appeared as if Lyanna had never seen something more wonderful in her life than Jon standing there with his crutches. And yet it did not seem to have a lustful edge; it was just pure, unadulterated joy.

Jon, who was always a little slow at catching onto things, just smiled at her bemusedly. "It's nice to meet you."

"Oh, we've met before," replied Lyanna quickly, as if there was no shadow of a doubt about it.

Jon furrowed his brow. "Have we?"

"Yes," said Lyanna, her expression growing soft and warm. "I used to volunteer at the Lannisport Children's Home when I was younger, and you were one of the kids there, weren't you?"

Jon's mouth opened in surprise. "Yes, I was! I stayed there until I was ten, when Jeor Mormont fostered me."

Lyanna nodded, but her smile dimmed with every second. "I remember. I stopped volunteering there soon after you left."

"Oh," said Jon, clearly not knowing what to do with that piece of information. "That's cool."

Perhaps sensing that the conversation was going to turn a little awkward given the wide smile that Lyanna was giving Jon and the confused look he was returning, Robb pushed through the uneasiness by turning attention to the problem at hand. "Come on guys, let's get in the car. I'm going to freeze my balls off if I stay out here much longer!"

* * *

As it turned out, Lyanna's car was spacious, but not really enough for the rag-tag collection of people they were trying to squeeze in there. Although Lyanna herself had plenty of room in the front seat, it was all made a little awkward when she had insisted Jon sit beside her with his crutches, which were difficult to place given the hand-break and the gearstick. All things considered, Jaime had thought it would be a better idea to put Robb and Margaery up front; as Margaery was tiny, she would have been able to quite easily perch on Robb's lap. However, Lyanna had insisted on Jon, and now four people had to squeeze on the back seat rather than three.

As Jaime had refused to be separated from his wife, he had also ended up wedged in the middle between the heavily pregnant Brienne on one side and Margaery and Robb on the other, who were seemingly insisting on bickering the whole way to _The Winterfell Hotel_.

"Look, I want to _FaceTime_ Alerie when I get to our room..."

"Margaery, there is really no point _FaceTiming_ a baby."

In contrast to Margaery and Robb, Brienne was positively silent, although she had rested one hand on Jaime's thigh and was busy running it up and down, up and down, and occasionally skirting it inwards so she got dangerously close to his crotch.

"What are you doing, wench?" he murmured, even though he knew full well what the answer would be.

In response, Brienne gazed at him coquettishly, which Jaime had to admit was a strange expression on her handsome face. "Oh, I think you know what I am doing," she whispered teasingly, pressing her thumb into the soft flesh of his thigh and drawing achingly slow circles. "You promised that you will be standing to attention for me when we get to our hotel room, so I am just making sure you are in the mood."

As she finished her sentence, Brienne brushed her hand very lightly and briefly against his crotch, before going back to her gentle stroking. At the contact, Jaime had to bite down on his lip to stop himself gasping. He had only told Brienne that he would stand to attention for her to make her happy, but now it seemed like she was taking him seriously. Shooting surreptitious glances at him over Robb and Margaery's bickering, Brienne was wearing the ravenously hungry glint in her eye that Jaime knew meant she wanted to throw him down and ride him like it was still their first time together. Yet, however much he wanted to do that deep down, Jaime did not think it was sensible now she was fit to burst. There was all the extra strain it would put on Brienne's aching joints, and how it would tire her out unnecessarily. It was not that he did not want to have sex - on the contrary, Jaime had desperately tried to make sure his wench had all her needs satisfied throughout her pregnancy - it was just that he wanted her to be careful, especially after what had happened to his own mother. So, if that meant never-ending doggy style and no oral sex (he had read on the internet that it could cause an air embolism, a very serious condition, in some pregnant women), then that was how it had to be.

Therefore, in an attempt to not get too turned on, Jaime tuned into Lyanna and Jon's conversation, not wanting to listen to the alternative snipping about Baby Alerie.

"So, tell me," said Lyanna, almost too breezily. "What happened to you after you got fostered by Jeor Mormont, Jon?"

Fiddling with his crutches, it took Jon some time to answer. "Oh, you know... not much. Jeor had fallen out with his own son, so I think he was looking for a surrogate. Even so, he was kind to me; he took me to football, we went out hiking a lot, and he looked after me the best he could. He even used to let Ned come and visit a lot."

"Ah, my lovely brother," said Lyanna wistfully. He thought if he could see Lyanna's face, her eyes would be misty. "Did he come visit a lot?"

"Yes," replied Jon slowly, seemingly trying to map out his own life with the benefit of hindsight. "I think he felt responsible for me because he was the one who found me in the woods when I was a baby, but I appreciated it. He used to come visit most weekends when I was in the Children's Home, and even after when I went to live with Jeor. It was him who inspired me to join the police service in the end, because I saw all the good that he was doing."

"Oh, that sounds very nice, that..."

Quite suddenly, Jaime lost his focus when he felt Brienne shift her hand so that it was resting on the inside of his thigh. Given that Robb and Margaery were now bickering quite loudly about whether Baby Alerie would recognise her parents through _FaceTime_ , Brienne drew close to Jaime to whisper to him, pulling him into a bubble for just the two of them.

"I'm so looking forward to getting you back to our hotel room," she purred, her voice hushed. "Everything has been so stressful these last few months, so I am just going to _love_ having you all to myself. I vote we do not leave our room all weekend."

"We have to go to the prize giving," Jaime countered, putting his hand on hers so he could move it back on top of his thigh. "Ned was my police partner before you; I want to honour him."

Brienne smiled at him understandingly. "I get that, but we will still have time. The baby is coming soon, so even though I am tired and a bit sore, I want to take the opportunity to make love to my husband. I don't think we'll have much time to ourselves afterwards, given everything we've seen Robb and Margaery go through with Alerie."

As if on cue, Margaery huffed, "oh, I _am_ sorry if our daughter interrupts your time in the hotel bar, Robb, it's just I really want to speak to her."

"But you can't speak to her," replied Robb exasperatedly, "because she's a baby!"

Lowering his voice so the squabbling Margaery and Robb could not hear him, Jaime squeezed Brienne's fingers. "We have been having sex though, wench." A horrible though struck him. "Have you not been enjoying it?"

"No!" said Brienne in surprise, so loudly it made Margaery shoot a brief glance at her. Consequently, she turned her reply right down to a whisper. "It's just... I want it to be a little more like how it was, you know?"

Jaime didn't really know, but he said he did, so they could stop talking about it. "I know, wench. We'll sort it out in our hotel room, okay? You can tell me what you want."

"I want you," she murmured, her breath tickling his ear while her words warmed his heart. "I want you, Jaime."

Not able to resist her heartfelt little plea, Jaime kissed her cheek before locking the fingers of his good hand with hers. Blushing brilliantly, Brienne leant her head on his shoulder just as she had on the minibus. It always amazed him that such a gesture could make him instantly relax, but it did. Having Brienne this close, pregnant and vulnerable, made him feel like he was protecting her.

And that was all he wanted.

* * *

The last part of their cramped car journey was perhaps the most interesting as, instead of bland country lanes, they finally arrived in a village, enabling Lyanna to point out all the interesting things to see.

"This place is called Winter Town," she reliably informed them, "and it sprung up around Winterfell Castle during the Middle Ages."

"There must be lots of ghosts," said Jon, putting a slight vibrato in his voice to sound spooky.

Lyanna chuckled. "Yes, I think so. We even have our own Shrieking Shack. It's called Starfall; it's an old cottage on the outskirts of town that used to belong to the Dayne family. No one lives there now, though, but people say you can occasionally hear a woman screaming and crying within its walls."

Suitably creeped out, the passengers listened to Lyanna in silence as they continued their journey, and the tension only broke when the car finally arrived at _The Winterfell Hotel._ Jaime opened his mouth shock. Having grown up at Casterly Rock, he was usually not really blown away by beautiful buildings, but there was something about _The Winterfell_ that seemed almost magical. Whereas Casterly Rock had been neo-classical in style, all hard woods and mahogany, _The Winterfell_ still looked like the medieval castle it had once been. Grey and majestic, it cut a handsome figure against the cold winter sky, especially as Lyanna had turned the courtyard into a sleek, gravelled entrance way where paying guests could park their cars.

"You can't see it now, but there are hot springs under the hotel," said Lyanna to Jon, pointing at a narrow set of stairs to one side which had a sign pointing to the spa. "They are the reason why my ancestors built the house on this site, as it originally worked as central heating, but I have converted the area into a spa and swimming area."

"That sounds nice," said Jon, before his tone turned disappointed, "but given my broken ankle, I don't think I am going to be able to go swimming."

Lyanna let out a little laugh. "You are probably right there, although we do have a bar down there, so you can have a cocktail and watch everybody else. Pretend you are at the beach!"

"Oooh, I would love to go swimming," added Brienne dreamily. "It would be great to take some weight off my feet. Do you have spa treatments that are appropriate for pregnant women, Lyanna?"

"Yes we do," said Lyanna brightly, glad to be of assistance. "We have a special pregnancy package with..."

In spite of Lyanna's positivity, Jaime had stopped listening. It was all very well for Brienne to say she wanted to go for a swim and have a scrub down in the spa, but there were practical issues she was not thinking of. Firstly, she would have to get from their room down to their basement, and Jaime thought those stairs looked too treacherous for his wench. He could always accompany her, he supposed, but then there was the problem of her getting into her swimming costume _alone_ in the ladies changing room, when she could not even see her feet at the moment. And on top of all that, her new weight distribution might mean she had probably forgotten how to swim, and she would just end up drowning, and Jaime was _not_ having that under any circumstances.

 _We will have to have a talk when we get to the hotel room,_ he thought, _a very serious talk._

Once Lyanna had parked up, the passengers all went to get out of the car. While she went to help Jon with his crutches, Robb and Margaery leapt out as quickly as two fairly athletic cats, unencumbered either by a drunken injury or a pregnancy. Jaime followed them in a moment, and then went around the car so he could help his wench.

"Jaime, I can get out of a car myself," she huffed, trying to heave herself up in spite of her huge beach ball size belly.

Trying to be helpful, he continued to hold his arm out to her. "Look, I know you are a badass police officer, but it is okay to ask for help sometimes. Especially from me, I am your husband."

Her expression softening slightly, Brienne took his hand and let him pull her up. "As long as you don't hold this against me," she said grumpily, before looping his arm with hers. "I do not want you teasing me about my days where I had all the personal agency of a beached whale."

"I would _never_ do that, my little beluga," he responded with a smile.

"Yes you would," Brienne replied, trying to appear sullen even as amusement caused her lips to turn up in a smile.

Arm in arm, once he had retrieved their suitcase and birthing bag from the boot, Jaime led his wench across the car park, following in the footsteps of Robb and Margaery. Not missing an opportunity for a bicker, Robb was sniping at Margaery about how heavy their suitcase was.

"What have you smuggled in here?" he asked gruffly. "Have you actually brought Alerie with us?"

Margaery rolled her eyes. "No, you know Alerie is at my gran's. I just put essentials in there, like my Dior sunglasses, two pairs of Jimmy Choos, and my heated rollers."

"Marg, it is Friday and we are leaving on Sunday. Why do you need all of this shit?"

"It's not shit!" Margaery squawked, loud enough that the word _shit_ echoed around the courtyard. "It is essentials!"

While Margaery and Robb were content bickering, it seemed Lyanna and Jon's conversation was much more cordial, as Lyanna was pointing out key features in the building's design. "See the Broken Tower up there? It had been a crumbling mess for centuries until I got the architects in to discuss a way we could keep the medieval design of the place while making sure it was structurally sound. It now houses our presidential suite."

As Robb and Margaery continued to argue and Lyanna and Jon talk about architecture, Brienne pulled Jaime close to her. "I'm looking forward to this," she smiled, "although it is only a weekend, it will be nice to get away and not be police officers for a minute."

Jaime raised a sceptical eyebrow at her. "You've been on maternity leave for a week already, leaving poor old me to go to work without you."

"It's good for you," Brienne smirked. "I need to let you off your leash every now and then."

Exchanging teasing looks, it took Brienne almost tripping up the stairs for Jaime to realise that they had reached _The WInterfell Hotel's_ front entrance and that he was not being a very attentive husband. Stopping the joke in an instant, Jaime carefully helped his wife over the tricksy looking welcome mat, as she scowled at him.

"Jaime, I'm fine," she told him, despite the fact she was now limping ever so slightly because of her stumble.

"Says you who nearly face planted on the floor," he retorted, refusing to let go of her arm. "I just want you to be careful, that's all."

Jaime suspected Brienne was going to give him an earful at that, but luckily Lyanna cut across them as they approached the reception desk. "This is Rodrik Cassel, the hotel manager," said Lyanna with an easy, charming smile as she pointed at the grey-bearded man in a neat suit standing behind the desk. "As I am going to head off and rescue your remaining friends, I will leave you all in the capable hands of Rodrik here."

"Thank you very much for saving us," piped up Brienne. "I don't think I could have stayed outside in the cold much longer."

Lyanna smiled at her. "That is quite alright, I am glad to have helped. I suppose I will see you all soon."

"See you, Aunt Lyanna," said Robb casually, momentarily pulling himself away from bickering with Margaery in order to do so.

"Yes, see you Robb," she replied. Then, to Jaime's surprise, Lyanna turned to Jon and her smile grew warm enough to heat up the whole hotel. "And I will see you later as well, Jon. We should talk some more."

Blinking in surprise, Jon nodded. "Yeah, sounds good."

Having received Jon's response, Lyanna turned on her heel and, with one last wave, made her way back out of the hotel towards her car. Jaime watched her for a moment more, before drawing close to his wench and whispering in her ear. "Lyanna seems to like Jon, doesn't she?"

Brienne shrugged. "Well, she is an older, attractive single woman and he is quite cute. Perhaps she is looking for a holiday romance."

Hearing Brienne describe Jon as _cute_ sent a prickle of jealousy up Jaime's spine. "But he's not as cute as me, is he, wench?"

"Oh, I don't know," replied Brienne slowly, clearly setting herself up to tease him. "You are getting on a bit now, old man, because you are basically forty, and Jon does have really lovely hair. Maybe I should get myself a new man... a younger model."

Jaime let out an indignant huff at her attempt to make him jealous. "Firstly, I am not basically forty, I am still thirty-nine, thanks very much, and, secondly, I have better hair than Jon."

"Do you think?" she purred, lifting one hand so she could run it through Jaime's silky mane.

The way she touched him was delicate enough that he had his answer. "Oh wench," he whispered in a way that never failed to make her shiver. "I know."

Unfortunately, at that moment, it appeared that Rodrik Cassel had finally finished fiddling around with his computer and was actually ready to welcome people to the hotel. Waving his hand, he summoned the small group of guests closer to the desk so they could be close enough to hear what he had to say. "Please let me take this opportunity to cordially welcome you to _The Winterfell Hotel,"_ he began in a deep baritone. "Lyanna tells me you are guests for the prize giving tomorrow night, correct?"

"Correct," supplied Margaery, as she hauled the suitcase out of a grumpy looking Robb's hand.

"Excellent," said Rodrik breezily, before pulling out a map of _The Winterfell Hotel_ from his drawer and laying it on the desk for everyone to see. "As per the invitations, the prize giving will be held in the Great Hall, which is just through these large doors to the left. Before the ceremony starts, a drinks reception with be held in our bar, _The Bael,_ which is down this corridor on your right. As there are high profile guests with security concerns here tomorrow, you will have to bear with us during the event, but we will endeavour to make it as smooth running as possible and keep your drinks topped up."

At Rodrik's statement about drinks, Brienne leant across to Jaime and whispered in his ear. "No champagne for me, unfortunately," she muttered. "Just cranberry juice."

"Poor wench," replied Jaime quietly, which made Brienne giggle, while Rodrik continued his recital.

"The Hot Springs and spa treatments are available to all guests and can be accessed by all hotel guests, but please be aware that these services only run between 7am and 10pm. The tennis courts and gym, which can be found out on the veranda, also operate on the same time scale. Breakfast is served between 6am and 10am at our Michelin-star restaurant, _The Winter Rose,_ which is up on the second floor, and dinner is between 7pm and 10pm. Does anybody have any questions?"

Margaery raised her hand. "Yes, what about our rooms?"

"Oh yes," replied Rodrik, turning to his computer once more and tapping frantically. "You are all part of the Casterly Constabulary party, yes?"

"Yes."

"Then all your rooms are up on the third floor. Can I have your names and what type of room you booked, please?"

"I believe our booking is under the name Margaery Tyrell," said Robb, stepping forward, "and we requested a double."

After a few more seconds searching on his database, Rodrik found what he was looking for and went to find the corresponding keys. "Ah yes, here is Ms Tyrell's booking. You are in Room 68, which is to the left when you come out of the lifts and you should see it on your right."

Once Robb had taken the keys from Rodrik, Jon stepped forward. "Err... Jon Snow? I believed I booked a single room?"

"Yes, here you are sir," replied Rodrik, pulling another set of keys off the hooks on the wall. "You are also on the third floor in Room 62. Please turn right as you come out of the lifts. And, finally, you two?"

When Rodrik turned to Jaime and Brienne, Jaime stepped forward. "Another double room, under the name Jaime Lannister-Tarth."

Getting into the rhythm, Rodrik found their booking almost instantly. "Mr and Mrs Lannister-Tarth," said Rodrik, holding out two sets of keys. "You are in Room 69. It's on the third floor; once you come out of the lifts, turn left and it is at the end of the corridor. I hope you all have a wonderful stay at _The Winterfell Hotel._ "

Nodding in thanks, Jaime took the keys off Rodrik and handed one set to Brienne. She just stared down at the number, a strange smile blooming on her face. As the two of them moved away from the reception desk towards the lifts, Jaime looked at her quizzically. "Penny for your thoughts?'

At his question, Brienne looked back at him, biting her bottom lip in a strangely sultry way. "Oh, nothing... it's just..."

"What?"

"Room 69," she said quietly, drawing close to him so only he could hear. "I have to be honest... the number is giving me _ideas._ "

Given Brienne's intense expression, Jaime could do nothing but gulp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! As you have probably noticed, with this story I am doing something a little different; I am switching between Jaime and Brienne's POVs. In the other stories in the series, people said they wanted to hear more from Jaime, so I though I would try it out. Let me know what you think of the change!
> 
> If anyone has any other theories, questions, or general observations, I would also love to hear from you in the comments below!
> 
> Next chapter... Jaime and Brienne go to their hotel room...


	3. Room 69

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne go up to their hotel room...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, thanks so much for coming back. I am enjoying this fic so much that I would LOVE to hear what you think, either through comments, kudos, or through my tumblr @SeeThemFlying. I hope you enjoy the chapter.

When Jaime slipped the key for Room 69 into the lock, Brienne could barely keep her hands to herself. For months she had been stuck at home with a husband who was flapping about pregnancy, babies, and her general health, so she was therefore hoping that the change of atmosphere would bring about a change in _him_ , so she could have her old Jaime back.

Because Brienne really, _really_ loved her old Jaime.

It hurt her to see him so flustered and worried about her, a state that continued even though she had _tried_ to get him to open up with little notes and face to face talking, just as their therapist had taught them. However, as everything she had attempted so far seemed to have failed, Brienne had decided that in the hotel room, she would get him to come back to her the old fashioned way.

After a few seconds of fumbling with the keys, Jaime managed to open the door and haul the suitcase and the birthing bag in behind him. The second he had deposited them both by the entrance to the bathroom and shucked his coat off, he turned back to Brienne and held his arm out.

"Jaime, I can walk through a door," she said chidingly, before moving past him to take a look at the room.

It was quite breath-taking. The colour scheme was white and blue, which seemed perfectly suited given the large bay window which dominated the room, showing views across Winter Town. A large four-poster bed stood in the middle of the chamber, next to a door that Brienne assumed was a walk-in wardrobe, abutted by a large space with an ornate coffee table carved with a direwolf, which Robb Stark had told Brienne was an old family emblem. On the table was a kettle and complimentary teas and coffees, while the minibar was tucked underneath the desk, which was pushed up against the wall.

Spotting the drinks, Jaime shut the door and turned to Brienne. "What do you want, wench? Fancy a drink? I am thinking of having some tea. It's cold out. I need to warm up."

As Jaime started fussing around with the kettles and the tea bags, Brienne came up behind him and hooked her thumbs over the top of his jeans, enjoying the feel of his warm skin against her. "I can think of more exciting ways to warm up other than tea," she purred, burying her face into his neck. He smelt so good, so much like home.

However, Jaime had other ideas.

"Tea first," he said authoritatively, letting Brienne know she would have no chance until he had had his brew. "What type do you want? English breakfast? Or camomile? I hear camomile is very calming, so might be good for you all things..."

"English breakfast is fine," sighed Brienne, removing her hands from his hips and retreating to the bed.

If Jaime was going to make this difficult for her... well, she would just have to try a bit harder.

As Jaime started pottering around making the tea, Brienne got to work. Starting with her trainers, she kicked them off, before working on slipping her comfortable maternity trousers over her hips. Unfortunately, as she now resembled a cross between a wild orca and a bowling ball, that was a bit difficult for Brienne and it meant she had to roll around in order to shuffle them off. Considering that she had wanted this whole thing to be seductive and alluring, Brienne therefore found it a terribly annoying when she rolled on top of the TV remote - which the hotel staff had handily place halfway down the bed - making the TV spring to life instantly.

"... although the government is contesting the contents of the will by arguing that most of Aerys Targaryen's money was gained through criminal activity, the lawyers representing his estate argue that Mr Targaryen has the right to bequeath his inheritance to his next of kin should he so wish."

Brienne froze. If she wished to seduce her husband, having the name _Aerys Targaryen_ -the man who had taken Jaime's hand - bandied around would not help. It had already been bad enough for the past month. Ever since the gangland kingpin had died, his name had been all over the news. Everyone had been expecting Aerys to leave his ill-gotten gains to his only living child, a terrifying drug baroness called Daenerys who was currently in King's Landing Ladies’ prison, serving time for her criminal activities. However, when the will was read out, Daenerys had been in for a shock.

"He left everything to his biological grandson by his eldest Rhaegar," Cersei had told Brienne when she had gone to visit her in prison. "And as you can imagine, Daenerys has lost her _shit_ over it. Apparently, nobody knew about this grandson... in fact, nobody knows who he even _is._ So the lawyers are having to go interviewing all Rhaegar's old friends to find out if he told any of them who this kid is, or even who the mother was."

Once she had finished the story about Daenerys, her fellow prison inmate, Cersei had then asked Brienne if she could try to persuade Jaime to come visit her. Brienne had promised she _would_ try, even though she knew it was futile. Jaime was so committed to his future with his wife and child, that he almost never looked back. Even for his sister.

In spite of feeling guilty about it, there was one benefit of keeping Jaime away from Cersei; namely, that Brienne had been able to hold back the news about Aerys just that little bit longer. That was until they had gone to _The Inn at the Crossroads_ one Sunday for lunch, however. Ron Connington had been at the bar, pissed as a newt, talking to the barmaid Pia as if she cared about what he had to say.

"I have an in with this whole Targaryen drama that has been on the news, you know?" he had smiled while leering over the bar at Pia's rather voluptuous chest. "My cousin Jon was a buddy with Rhaegar Targaryen, Aerys' eldest who supposedly had this mythical son. The lawyers are all up on Jon's arse trying to ask him questions about who Rhaegar was getting with back in the day, and I think Jon has some ideas. Apparently, Rhaegar had this long term girlfriend, Elia, for a while so... maybe it was her."

Although they had been sitting at the other side of the pub in the family section, at the mention of Aerys and Rhaegar, Jaime had blanched the most horrible white colour. Seeing his reaction, Brienne had started talking loudly about potential baby names to distract him from Ron and his insensitive gossiping.

Therefore, not wanting a re-run of those events while she was trying to get into her husband's pants, Brienne swiftly turned the TV off while her slacks were halfway down her legs. She hoped and prayed Jaime would not turn around at that moment because instead of _sexy seductress_ Brienne, he would be confronted by _baby elephant flailing around in a watering hole_ Brienne, whom she did not feel was the best Brienne to persuade Jaime to take his clothes off.

Luckily, however, Jaime was still absorbed with the tea making.

"Oooh, the hotel has provided us with homemade shortbread!" he said happily, getting the pieces out of the box provided and putting them on the saucers. "I love shortbread." It seems he was imagining that they were going to have a little tea party.

Brienne had other ideas.

"Cool," she mumbled as she eventually managed to get her slacks off. "Hotels normally don't go that far."

"This is five star!" replied Jaime, with a laugh. "Lyanna wouldn't stoop any lower than homemade shortbread. House Stark's reputation rests on it."

"Ha ha, yeah," said Brienne noncommittedly in response as she started on shuffling her unsexy granny knickers off. When seducing the very delectable Jaime Lannister, talk about Aerys Targaryen was one thing, unsexy granny knickers another. Unfortunately, as she was now heavily pregnant, it was a bit difficult for Brienne to see her knickers, let alone take them off. Consequently, she found herself huffing and puffing like a pig searching for truffles as she shimmied them down her thighs. It was not a particularly sexy sound but, luckily, at that moment, the kettle started whistling to tell Jaime the water was boiled.

"Still sugar with your tea, wench?" asked Jaime, humming as he went searching for the sugar cubes. During her pregnancy, Brienne had developed a bit of a sweet tooth, so it was nice to know that Jaime was still checking if her tastes were the same.

Pulling off her socks, Brienne gave him his answer. "Perfect."

"Excellent," he replied, setting about finishing making the tea. Knowing she did not have long left before Jaime turned around, Brienne decided to keep her grungy T-shirt on - if he really wanted, he could take it off her. With everything settled, she just leant herself back on her elbows, opened her legs, and looked at him in what she hoped was a seductive way.

Having finished making the tea, Jaime turned to face her, proud of himself. "Wench, I've made your tea. Where do you want me to...? _Oh."_

Smiling at him ravenously as he stared, entranced, at the space between her open legs, Brienne tried to convey to him how much she longed for him in words. It was not her forte, but she knew she had to try and persuade him if she wanted him to comply. "Put the tea down and come over here. I want to suck your cock."

As Jaime was normally all for dirty talk, Brienne was surprised when he went as red as a tomato and nearly sloshed the tea all over himself. "Oh... I... err..."

"Did you hear me?" said Brienne again, attempting to play the dominating sexpot because she was aware it _did things_ to her husband. "I want you over here, because I want to suck your cock. You said you were going to stand to attention for me, so I am going to make you."

Clearly having trouble holding the teacup with its saucer up in air, Jaime put it back down next to the one that he had made for himself and fixed her with a heated stare. "Brienne, we've just arrived..."

Sensing she was going to have to persuade him, Brienne pouted at Jaime and made her blue eyes go wide. "I know, but we are only here until Sunday, so I want to make the most of it! We don't have to be at dinner for ages, so I have plenty of time to make you come."

Intrigued by the prospect, Jaime took a step forward. "But you are pregnant, wench."

"Being pregnant does not stop me sucking you off," said Brienne firmly, as if she were actually in a debate with him on the subject, "and I really, really, _really_ want to turn you on."

Perhaps realising there was not stopping her, Jaime smiled at her predatorially. "There are more ways of turning me on than that, you know, and ways that might be kinder to your poor joints."

"What ways are those?" asked Brienne, her voice suddenly breathy.

"Mmm," said Jaime, stepping forward as he began to unbutton his shirt, "I don't know but... I bet there's something tastier than a homemade shortbread somewhere in this room."

Breaking the atmosphere, Brienne let out a little giggle. "That's a terrible line."

"I know, but I like to think that it will work," replied Jaime, slamming his mouth into hers just as he got his shirt off.

And then there were fireworks. Perhaps it was because they were in a romantic hotel that used to be a medieval castle, or even that they were just away from Casterly for a few days, but there was something in Jaime's kiss that told Brienne he wanted this just as much as she did. Clutching at his shoulders, Brienne tried to shuffle up the bed so he could slip in between her thighs, but when she did so he pulled away abruptly.

"Although I am only doing this if you support your hips with your pregnancy pillow and get under the covers," Jaime announced. "We are in a medieval castle with poor central heating; I don't want you catching a chill."

Rolling her eyes to show her displeasure, Brienne nevertheless agreed. "Alright, but you have to take your shoes off."

"Always the romantic," he laughed, standing up in order to comply with her wishes.

As Jaime set about making himself ready for her, Brienne got the pregnancy pillow from the birthing bag and placed it under the covers in the bed. Once it was in position, she laid on top of it, making sure her hips were set across it. With her giant swollen belly, it made sleeping at night more comfortable. Back in Casterly, Jaime's insistence on her using it had always been annoying but now, thinking about it, Brienne realised it would probably also give Jaime better access when he was eating her out.

When she was tucked up under the layers and layers of blankets and pillows that _The Winterfell Hotel_ had provided, Jaime burrowed up and under from the bottom of the bed so he was rested between her thighs. From this vantage point, she could not see him. Part of her was disappointed - there was nothing she loved more than looking into Jaime's green eyes during sex - but there was also something thrilling about not being able to see what he was going to do to her. It made her feel strangely powerless, so she had to put her faith in him. And he never let her down. Starting at the tender flesh on the inside of her right knee, Jaime began to kiss an ever so slow trail of kisses up the inside of her thigh. Already overcome, Brienne pulled the covers up to her chin, allowing herself to luxuriate in the bliss of having Jaime just where she wanted him, without the stress of real life, or the baby, or...

However, her tranquillity did not last long.

"Oh my god, Robb!" came Margaery's voice as the door that Brienne had previously thought was a cupboard swung open. "This is not a walk in wardrobe! It's an adjoining room! Hi Brienne!"

At her exciting discovery, Margaery came bounding into the room, causing both Jaime and Brienne to freeze.

 _Oh shit,_ thought Brienne, as Margaery started walking around, her mouth open in awe at how light and airy their room was. _Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit..._

"Wow, yours is much roomier than ours!" exclaimed Margaery, before going to look out the window at the view. "You would think that we'd get better considering Robb is Lyanna's nephew, but maybe Bran is her favourite after all."

Having had enough of the bright lights of Winter Town, Margaery turned back to face the door, only to be greeted by the sight of Brienne lying in her bed. "Oh, what are you doing in there?"

For once in her life, Brienne was immensely glad that Jaime had insisted on her resting on the pregnancy pillows and piling herself with blankets. It meant that, from the angle Margaery was standing at, it just seemed as if Brienne was laying on her bed under the covers with her knees drawn up. Jaime could barely be seen from his position between her legs.

"Ummm..." began Brienne slowly, not wanting to betray the fact that she could feel Jaime's breath on the soft skin of her inner thighs. "I am just having a lie down. I think I hurt my back... _oh_..."

Unfortunately for Brienne's reputation, Jaime seemed to choose that moment to plant a delicate little kiss at the point she was most sensitive. She wanted to shout, to tell him off for being embarrassing, but then he stopped kissing and started _licking_ at her instead. She wanted to scream, because Jaime knew what _that_ did to her. Nearing the point where she would lose grip of her self-control, Brienne had to bite down on her lip to stop herself moaning out loud, betraying the fact that Jaime was performing a sex act on her while their colleagues were standing in the room.

"Oh, that's a shame," said Margaery, before calling out loudly to her boyfriend. "Robb! Robb! Come see the view that Jaime and Brienne have from their room! It's amazing!"

As Jaime started whirling his tongue around in little circles, Robb came bounding into the room through the open door. "Oh wow, that's... Brienne, why are you in bed?"

"Back... _ahhh..._ ache," she lied, as her cheeks began to burn with the heat of what Jaime was doing to her.

Robb raised his eyebrow at her, interpreting her groan as a wince. "Is it really that bad?"

"Yes... urgh... ah... it's really sore," she blurted out, wanting to stop Robb concentrating on her while Jaime was being such a... bastard. "With this whole preg... _ah_... nancy thing..."

"That's a shame," replied Robb, who, to Brienne's consternation, continued to look at her concernedly. Jaime did not help the situation as he was still lapping at her, drinking from her as if she were a fountain. Given his determined attentions, Brienne found it difficult to focus as Robb went to stand over with Margaery.

Looping his arm around her, Robb kissed Margaery on the cheek. "Shall we go down to the bar and have a drink? After you have called Alerie, of course."

"Interesting idea..." replied Margaery, considering Robb's proposal, before turning to look at Brienne. "Do you fancy coming, Chief? Can we tempt you with a cranberry juice?"

As if to tell Brienne to say _no,_ Jaime clamped his lips around her clit and started sucking furiously, which almost made her lose her mind. "I... err... might... err... what?"

Narrowing her eyes, Margaery stepped forward, looking at Brienne with a great deal of suspicion. "Are you okay? You are sweating."

"F-f-f-fine, fine, I'm absolutely..."

_KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK._

At that sound, Jaime pulled away and began to kiss the inside of Brienne's thighs, while Margaery and Robb were distracted by the noise coming from outside the room. Without even thinking twice, Robb went to answer the door and Margaery followed soon after. Although Brienne thought that was a _little_ rude of Robb given that this was hers and Jaime's room, she did not miss her opportunity. Snaking her hand under the duvet, Brienne pulled sharply at Jaime's hair to get him to stop. At her touch, he let out a barely audible groan of displeasure, but Brienne managed to cover it by coughing loudly.

"Fancy a drink?" came Tyrion's voice as he, Shae, the Hound, Ilyn, and Joff trooped into the room one by one, as if this were a public bar and not Jaime and Brienne's bedroom. "We were thinking we could go grab one while waiting for Lyanna and Theon to come back with the others."

Brienne wanted to scream. She had been trying for _weeks_ to get Jaime into bed with her in a way that felt fun, fresh, and exciting, but now it seemed all their colleagues were going to spoil it by wanting to go for a drink in the bar!

"We were just thinking that," said Margaery, "although Brienne has hurt her back and... wait a second, where's Jaime?"

At her question, Jaime instantly stopped what he was doing. Frozen with fear at the prospect of getting caught, he waited with bated breath along with the others as Brienne's befuddled pre-orgasm mind tried to come up with a believable but totally fictitious story about where her husband supposedly was.

"Jaime?" Brienne said, as if she had never heard of the man before. "I... oh... er... I think... umm... he went and... err... he went to ask a question about the minibar. Yes, that's it! He should be back any second."

She could tell her audience were split fifty-fifty on that answer; while Robb, Shae, and the Hound looked convinced, the others were more sceptical. "The minibar?" asked Margaery. "What questions can he possibly have about the minibar?"

"Oooh... err... well," began Brienne, deciding that using a grain of truth would help her make a more convincing story, "Jaime noticed there wasn't any orange juice, and me being pregnant and all means that he thinks I should be getting my daily vitamin intake, so he has gone to look for some..."

Margaery just looked confused at that answer. "So, what you are saying is that Jaime arrived at the hotel, but didn't like the drinks on offer in your room, so went to find some orange juice?"

"Yeah?" replied Brienne lamely, as Jaime let out a huff of amusement into her thigh.

When Margaery started nodding, Brienne thought she had gotten away with it, but then Tyrion piped up. "Then why are there two fresh cups of tea on the coffee table?"

Brienne's stomach sank. Jaime clearly felt the jig was up too, as he nipped at her inner thigh, as if to tell her _well, you've really fucked this one up._

"Jaime thinks variety is the spice of life..." began Brienne rather pathetically, hoping that her friends would just leave it and move onto something else.

However, Brienne was having no such luck.

"I'm going to call him," announced Tyrion, getting his phone out. "And tell him to meet us down in the bar."

"No, you can't do that!" interject Brienne. "I think he left his phone in here. I think..."

The second Tyrion dialled the number and put his own phone against his ear, _You Don't Know You're Beautiful_ started loudly playing from under the covers, from somewhere between Brienne's thighs. Closing her eyes in embarrassment, she realised that Jaime must have kept his phone in his jeans pocket, and it was now loudly alerting everyone to its owner's location via the medium of One Direction. Knowing she could not pretend at ignorance for long, Brienne opened her eyes to find all her friends staring with dawning horror at the bed. She didn't know whether she should ask them all to leave, to tell them what she and Jaime had been doing, or just curl up and die.

Luckily, Jaime had the answer.

"Oh, for fuck's sake I've had enough of this," he grumbled, burrowing his way out of the side of the covers and resting his chin on Brienne's knee so he could peer out at their friends without exposing her. "Can you please just give us twenty minutes?"

"Forty five," countered Brienne.

"Thirty."

Knowing she probably wasn't going to get a better offer, Brienne said, "deal!"

Now that her and Jaime were a united front, they turned back to their friends, who were all staring at them with mixed expressions. Robb looked like he wished his eyes would fall out of his sockets. Tyrion was appalled. The Hound looked faintly disgusted, while Shae was unreadable as ever. In the end, though, it was Margaery who spoke for the whole group.

"You've been in this hotel for less than TEN MINUTES and you are already at it!" she shouted exasperatedly, while Robb covered his eyes, as if he had never seen something so traumatising in his life. "What is wrong with you both? You've been married for years, surely you can't still be this in love!"

The Hound let out a bark of laughter. "Are we really all that surprised?"

"You shouldn't be," interjected Jaime, clearly wanted to defend what had gone on between him and his wife. "Brienne and I are in the privacy of our own room! It was you that walked in through the walk in wardrobe and interrupted!"

"They are _adjoining rooms,"_ replied Margaery, trying to defend herself, "and I didn't know that!"

"Even so, what did you think we were going to be doing in here?' asked Jaime, as if Margaery should have anticipated that Brienne would try to seduce her husband within ten minutes of their arrival at the hotel.

"I don't know," began Margaery, digging around desperately for something appropriate, "making tea."

"Watching the news?" suggested Shae.

"Unpacking?" offered the Hound.

"Well, we weren't," said Jaime, batting off each one of these eminently sensible suggestions. "And, if you really must know, I would quite to get back to getting my wife off, so if you don't mind..."

And without saying another word, Jaime disappeared back under the covers, leaving Brienne to just look at their friends apologetically, her face burning. "I would try and stop him, but it was me who talked him into this in the first place, so it doesn't seem fair."

"FIVE!" shouted Jaime very loudly from under the covers.

Shae looked nervously at Tyrion. "What is he doing?"

"FOUR!"

"I think he's counting," replied Tyrion, hanging up the phone.

"But counting what?" asked Margaery, glancing at Robb and Tyrion in turn.

"THREE!"

Robb shrugged. "I don't know."

"TWO!"

The probable truth suddenly dawned on the Hound, and he went very pale, which made an extreme contrast with the red burn across his face. Always in tune with his master, Joff also let out a nervous whine. Not sure what Jaime was counting down either, Brienne was waiting for the timer to reach zero. However, she did not have to wait that long, because he let her know the second after he shouted "ONE!" when he buried his face in her cunt.

"Oh... urgh... _ohhhhh_..." moaned Brienne as Jaime began to lick at her once more, seemingly not caring that loads of their friends were standing there watching this indecent display happen.

However, while Jaime didn't give a flying shit, it appeared everyone else did.

"EVERYBODY OUT!" shouted Tyrion, heading for the door as if it were the only route of escape during a blazing fire, as Shae followed him. Seemingly suddenly remembering all the emergency exits, the Hound followed Tyrion and Shae, with Joff just behind him, slamming the door as he went, while Robb pulled Margaery back towards the walk in wardrobe/adjoining room door.

Just as Robb pushed her through, Margaery caught Brienne's eye. "Have fun!"

"Will do!" gasped Brienne, as Robb slammed the door shut, finally leaving her and her husband alone.

Once everybody was gone, Brienne felt Jaime's kisses turn into laughs as he moved up her body, before appearing beside her in the bed. Wearing one of his triumphant, crooked grins, Jaime looked at her with victory in his eyes. "I knew that would make them go away."

Blinking rapidly, it took Brienne a few moments to realise what he was talking about, given that she was slowly recovering from his absence between her thighs. Breathless, she nevertheless decided to take control of the situation once more. "Who said you could stop?" she asked him, gazing at him with a type of humourless authority.

Jaime gulped. "Nobody."

Sensing his desire building one more, Brienne leaned in and placed a gentle, tantalising kiss on the corner of his mouth.

"Then don't stop."

* * *

When Brienne and Jaime arrived hand-in-hand at the hotel bar half an hour later, Tyrion was the first one to question them. "Suitably refreshed, are we?"

"Oh yes, perfectly," replied Jaime with a self-satisfied grin, as he pulled out a chair for Brienne to sit in. "There's nothing like going on a romantic minibreak with the wife."

Tyrion gave him a mock irritated look, before turning to Brienne. "As long as he keeps you happy, my dear, that is all that matters."

"He does," said Brienne warmly, as she affectionately laid her hand on Jaime's prosthetic hand when she looked up at him. "He does."

Finding it difficult not to drown in his smile, Brienne only came back into the room when Jaime asked her a direct question. "I'm going to get a drink as we didn't get to finish our tea. Do you want one? Cranberry juice?"

"Cranberry juice sounds perfect," replied Brienne, before turning back to everyone else. "Does anyone want another drink? Jaime is going to the bar."

In their absence, it seemed their friends had pulled together several tables in _The Bael_ in order so that they could also sit together. While Shae and Sansa were sitting to one side sipping tea, as if they had come to a fancy luncheon, Bronn was making the most of it and had his feet up on the table. Everybody else sat at various positions between those two extremes.

"I wouldn't mind one," came a voice, that Brienne instantly knew did not belong to a member of the Casterly Constabulary. Looking round, Brienne found herself peering into the stoic blue eyes of Catelyn Stark, the matriarch of the Stark clan, who was sitting next to Robb. Although now in her fifties, Catelyn exuded iron strength, even when doing something as simple as ordering a drink. 

Seeing it was Catelyn who asked, Jaime put on his most polite manner. "What would you like, Ms Stark?'

"Oh," she chuckled darkly, "something strong. Is it too early for a Gin and Tonic?"

Jaime checked his watch. "It's just gone four o'clock, I think that is acceptable."

"You would," joked Brienne teasingly, before Jaime narrowed his eyes at her in response.

"So, one cranberry juice, one gin and tonic, and one beer for me," he said, making especially sure to check in with Catelyn. Not only had Jaime been Ned's police partner when the latter went missing and was then killed, but he had also been the passenger in the car on the night that Bran Stark had been put in a wheelchair. Therefore, although Jaime had done much to atone for his family's crimes, he still felt partially responsible, so always treated the Stark matriarch with the utmost respect. "Anybody else?"

When no one else answered, Jaime took that as his cue to disappear off to the bar, while Brienne turned back to join in the conversation with Robb, Tyrion, and Catelyn. It was clear that they were talking about events the following day.

"I am so pleased that Barristan has agreed to come back and present the award," said Catelyn, her eyes glowing with pride. "We were all quite good friends back in the day, you know, Tyrion. Barristan grew up in Casterly, and although he was a few years older, he was always hanging around with Ned's older brother Brandon and his mates. I think he used to have a thing for Barbrey Dustin!"

Robb let out a huff of laughter. "Barbrey Dustin? That drunken old crone! Barristan is the Minister of Justice, why would he have fancied someone like Barbrey Dustin?"

"The heart wants what the heart wants," said Catelyn wistfully, "just like me and Ned."

By raising the spectre of her dead husband so poetically, Catelyn ground the conversation about the past to a halt, meaning Tyrion had to change direction with a nimble volte-face. "Well, surely Barristan is looking forward to presenting the award, but I hear the weather is going to get worse. The news was telling me it was going to snow and, seeing as we are in the middle of nowhere, hopefully that won't stop Barristan getting here."

"He's tough as old boots," declared Catelyn, a little dismissive of Tyrion's point. "I'm sure he'll be fine."

"But will we?" asked Robb, aiming for the dramatic as his mother looked at him disapprovingly. "I know Aunt Lyanna spends a fortune on the heating in this place, but my room is pretty cold. If it snows, it is only going to get worse."

"Maybe you will have to find some other way to warm up, Robb," said Tyrion teasingly, "take a leaf out of Jaime and Brienne's book."

While Catelyn looked at Tyrion confusedly, Robb let out a splutter of laughter, meaning that Brienne had to totally derail the conversation to get them off the topic of what she and Jaime had spent the last half an hour doing in their room. "Lyanna says there are lots of ways to get warm in this hotel," she insisted. "It has Hot Springs built underneath, doesn't it? Surely they must be pretty toasty."

"Oh, the Hot Springs are great," declared Robb, his eyes going misty with recollection. Suddenly getting an idea, he turned to Margaery, who was sitting on his other side. "Hey, Marge. How do you feel about going to the Hot Springs with me after we finish our drink? It might be nice to relax a little before dinner."

Clearly having been expecting a silly suggestion, Margaery's eyes lit up at the idea. "Oh, that sounds fun. Brienne, do you want to come with? Have you brought your swimming costume with you?"

Brienne _had_ brought her swimming costume with her, much to Jaime's consternation, mostly because she had read all about the Hot Springs and thought they would be a great way to take some of the constant pressure off her aching body. If she also had to put up with the sight of Jaime Lannister-Tarth parading around in his swimming trunks, well... everyone had their crosses to bear.

"Oooh, yes. I would love to," she replied swiftly, just as Jaime returned to the table with her drink. "Jaime, did you hear that?"

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What?"

"There's a plan to go swimming in the Hot Springs before dinner. Do you want to come? It might be good considering we spent most of the day either in the cold or in a cramped minibus."

Considering the prospect, Jaime bit his lip. "Are you sure that will be safe for you? I think the stairs leading down to the Hot Springs are very steep, and you will have to be all alone in the Ladies, so I can't help you."

"I'll look after her," piped up Margaery enthusiastically, but when she saw that did nothing to quell Jaime's concerned expression, she peered at him firmly. "Come on. Your wife deserves the chance to _relax,_ and so do you. We'll all make sure she doesn't sink under her own body weight and drown, we promise."

When Tyrion and Robb chimed in to agree with Margaery, Jaime began to soften, but it was only when Brienne fixed him with her best pout and wide-eyed gaze that he completely melted. "Please?"

"Alright," he sighed dramatically, brushing his fingers briefly against Brienne's cheek. "As long as you don't do anything silly, wench."

Brienne pretended to be insulted as she stood up and kissed him. "Me? When have I done anything silly?"

"I could start with the time you charged into town on the back of a white horse and shot the place up, but that might be delving too deep into the past," he teased.

"Oh you are so right," she grinned, drawing him into a hug. "That's much too far Mr Lannister, much too far."

Jaime just laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please consider leaving a comment; they inspire me to write and make me feel younger.
> 
> Next chapter... everybody goes swimming in the Hot Springs...


	4. Swimming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Casterly Constabulary try out the Hot Springs...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, thanks for coming back! I am sorry this is late; I found this chapter really hard to write for some reason. To give me inspiration, please consider leaving comments and kudos. While I write for fun, I publish for feedback!

It had taken a fairly lengthy discussion in their room for Brienne to convince Jaime that, if he wanted to come swimming too, he had to take his prosthetic hand off.

"Do you remember what the doctor said when we went to get it refitted?" she asked as she folded up her swimming costume, his trunks, and two towels to take down to the Hot Springs. "If you go swimming with your prosthetic on it can get waterlogged, and ultimately affect the integrity of the entire limb."

Even though he knew she was right, Jaime could not help but pout at her. "Then maybe I just won't go swimming."

"And leave me all alone?" she said sweetly, staring at him searchingly with those startling blue eyes of hers. When she did that, it was almost impossible for Jaime to refuse her anything, so he tried to find an excuse.

"You know I don't like taking my prosthetic off in front of people..."

"I know," Brienne said, leaning forward to give him a quick peck on the lips, "but I promise you no one will judge you. It's just our friends and colleagues after all. And, as I believe I told you on our first date, to me, your missing hand is just a symbol of how brave you are, how kind, how good, how willing to give up important things for other people."

Before he could stop her, Brienne slipped the prosthetic off and put it on the bed, then drew his stump to her lips. "It's part of you, Jaime. How could it possibly be ugly?"

Blushing profusely at her evocation of one of his fondest memories, Jaime returned Brienne's kiss with one of her own. "Okay, I'll go, but don't leave me on my own. Bronn will have a field day if he seems me without my hand."

"I won't," she smiled; an expression that Jaime found reassuring. "And if anyone, even Tyrion, makes a silly joke about your arm, I will punch him. No questions asked."

Although those words had buoyed Jaime up as they made their way down to the underground Hot Springs, his heart fell when they reached the changing rooms and he found Margaery waiting for them.

"You are here!" she chirped happily, instantly looping her arm with Brienne's, pulling her away from Jaime. "Come on, everyone is down in the springs already. Although we will have to take it carefully; there are some steep steps leading down to the changing room, and I don't want you falling flat on your face, Brienne."

"Okay," replied Brienne, seemingly happy at the prospect of going swimming. It took Jaime to reach out and touch her elbow for her to remember her promise and, looking back at him, her eyes filled with concern. "Will you be alright? We'll only be separated a few minutes."

Even though Jaime _was_ worried about revealing his shortened arm to all their colleagues, in that moment, he was more alarmed that without him to help her, Brienne would trip and fall on the stairs. Consequently, lying came surprisingly easy. "I'll be fine. You go and get changed, but make sure you are careful. I'll see you in a minute."

Perhaps sensing his apprehension, Margaery nodded at Jaime reassuringly. "I'll look after her, don't worry," she said, before leading Brienne down the stairs, leaving Jaime alone with his worries and concerns. Once they were gone, Jaime pulled the handle of his swimming bag over his shoulder and headed towards the men's changing room, which was at the bottom of an equally perilous set of stairs.

 _It will be alright,_ he told himself as he got changed. _She won't fall. Margaery will look after her._

_She won't fall._

Once he was in his trunks with his prosthetic hand stored safely in his bag, Jaime sheepishly headed out to the Hot Springs. Quite unexpectedly, the huge, steaming pool was in a vast natural underground cavern, quite at odds with the glamorous style of the rest of _The Winterfell Hotel._ Given its rocky, natural look, Jaime's mind instantly jumped to Brienne.

 _This is dangerous for her, she can barely see her own feet at the moment,_ he thought. _Her and the baby. Her and..._

"Hey, Jaime!"

Snapping his head around, Jaime searched for the source of the voice, and his gaze instantly fell on Sansa, who was waving at him from the centre of the spring. Even though she was smiling, for a fleeting moment, Jaime was worried that Sansa was going to point out he did not have his prosthetic on. However, when he did not move, she just summoned him with her hand.

"Come on! Aren't you going to get in?"

Fearing he was standing there looking like an alarmed guppy, Jaime headed for the water. "Sure," he mumbled, conscious of Sansa's eyes on him as he began to tentatively walk down the craggy side of the spring, wanting to hide his arm as quickly as possible from her gaze. Once he was submerged in the water, Jaime swam forward, trying to find somewhere to settle. Unfortunately, the spring was a little deep and, even though Jaime was tall, he could barely touch the bottom. Consequently, he paddled over to where the Hound and Sansa were, hoping to get better footing.

"Hello, you," smiled Sansa. "How's it going?"

"Fine," Jaime lied breezily, perching on the rocks beside her, not wanting to tell her about the worry eating into his chest over the fact that Brienne and Margaery had not yet made their appearance.

At that, the Hound let out a bark of dark laughter. "Well, I'm not fine. Apparently, according to Lyanna bloody Stark, no dogs are allowed in the Hot Springs, so I have had to leave Joff up with her in the office."

While Jaime did not find that _particularly_ surprising, he let the Hound regale him with the horrors of Lyanna's upstairs office, and the particular care that his beloved German Shepherd needed that he wouldn't get while they were separated. As the Hound droned on and on, Jaime's eyes drifted to some of their friends who were bobbing in the centre of the pool. Robb, Robb, Pod, Gendry, Jon, Shae, and Bronn were all splashing each other and chucking a ball between them. In more carefree days, Jaime might have joined in, but now he was just worrying that they would disturb Brienne when she eventually appeared.

Sensing Jaime's eyes on him, Robb Stark turned to look at him. "Hey, Sergeant Whipped. Do you fancy playing catch with us?"

"Can't," replied Jaime quickly, not quite meeting Robb's eyes.

Stark just looked confused. "Why not?"

In lieu of an actual answer with words, Jaime just held his stump up in the air. It would be very difficult to play catch with only one hand.

"Oh," said Robb Stark, a little guiltily, before turning back to the game.

Jaime wanted to tell him it was alright, but just at that moment, Bronn let out a loud wolf whistle. Snapping his head round to see what his friend was looking at, Jaime discovered that Brienne and Margaery had finally made their appearance from the changing room. Most other men would be drawn to Margaery in her pretty green bikini which showed off her delicate, petite body. However, to Jaime, she was nothing in comparison to the pregnant warrior goddess in a blue swimsuit beside her, who looked as if she spent her free time smiting unworthy men. While Margaery was helping Brienne with the steps, Brienne had one hand wrested protectively on her belly. The sight suddenly made Jaime feel like he could wrestle a pack of wild hyenas off, if only to protect her and their little family.

Consequently, he had no problem with barking at Bronn.

"I can't believe you just did that."

"What?" laughed Bronn, catching the ball as Gendry threw it to him. "Can't I appreciate two beautiful ladies?"

"Not when one of them is my very pregnant wife," replied Jaime sharply, before turning away from Bronn and swimming across the spring towards Brienne, who was just lowering herself into the water.

"There you are," murmured Brienne affectionately as Jaime got close enough to touch her. "How are you finding swimming without your hand?"

Jaime shrugged nonchalantly, wanting to show her how much he did not care. "Fine. I'm more worried about you though, as the surfaces are very uneven in here. Why don't you swim over this way with me? I've found a little spot where we can perch."

Following his instruction, Brienne let Jaime lead her away from Margaery - who headed off in the direction of Robb Stark - back towards the Hound and Sansa, the former of whom was still bitching about Lyanna's supposed terrible treatment of Joff. Although Jaime was prepared to tolerate it for the sake of getting Brienne somewhere comfortable, after a few moments of letting him hold her against firmly by his side, she got distracted.

"What are you playing?" asked Brienne to the group of more adventurous swimmers, paddling away from Jaime so she could bob in the water with Margaery and the others who were still playing stupid games.

"Catch," said Gendry, clearly wanting to be informative as he tried to wrestle the ball off Robb Arryn.

Brienne raised her eyes in surprise. "Come on, that is a bit tame, isn't it? Surely we can think of something more adventurous than that."

As Jaime's stomach swooped in fear, the others started making suggestions.

"Handball?"

"Dodgeball?"

"Volleyball?"

At Shae's proposal, Brienne's eyes brightened. "Oooh, yes. Volleyball! We can imagine a net down the centre of the pool, and get into two teams..."

On hearing Brienne's plan ludicrous plan, Jaime knew he had no choice but to intervene.

"Volleyball isn't very safe," he interjected loudly from the side of the spring. "There's jumping up and down, it will get too competitive, this isn't a swimming pool, and you are pregnant, wench..."

However, it seemed his wife did not share his concerns.

"Lighten up, will you?" she said, laughing, half teasingly, half sincerely. "We're on holiday. Let's have some fun!"

 _Fun,_ thought Jaime darkly as Brienne started splitting their small group of friends into two teams. _With all this worry, I have forgotten what fun is._

* * *

For the rest of the evening, Jaime tried to remember the dictionary definition of fun but, with Brienne pregnant and clearly not as capable as usual, he found it difficult.

While playing volleyball, Brienne got hit on the head by the ball several times, mostly because she could not move away fast enough, and Jaime had to bite down on his lip to stop himself shouting at people. In his irritation, Jaime tried to have a sharp word with Robb and Robb (who were the main culprits behind the most competitive tactics), but Brienne did not seem to share his annoyance.

"I'm fine, Jaime. I'm fine. I'm pregnant, not injured."

And yet he could not put away his worry. After they left the Hot Springs, Jaime got changed, separated from Brienne once more. While he knew that Margaery, Sansa, and Shae would be making sure his wench didn't trip over on the rocks and the stairs, it pained him that he wasn't there with her.

_My father wasn't with my mother..._

Suppressing his fears, Jaime tried to put on a smile as the group went for food at the hotel's restaurant; _the Winter Rose_ was meant to have a very good chef and Brienne was excited, after all. Clinging onto her arm in an attempt to stop her from falling, Jaime led her across the cold courtyard towards the eatery.Perhaps sensing something was up, Brienne rested her free hand on his arm and whispered in his ear. "I'm alright. We're just going for dinner." Even though he knew she was telling him the truth, there was something about Brienne being pregnant and vulnerable that just brought out the fear in Jaime.

_It will be fine. It will be fine._

In spite of his nerves, dinner in _The Winter Rose_ was everything the restaurant's reputation implied it would be and more. After a beautiful starter of carrot and orange soup, Jaime had the pork belly with seasonal vegetables, and to conclude a pistachio cheesecake. Brienne, ever ravenous, kept stealing little bits off his plate, but he couldn't bring himself begrudge her anything. Eight months into her pregnancy, she looked like a blooming flower in the spring - radiant, but vulnerable to a lack of water and sunlight - so he thought it was a good idea to continue to feed his rose with cheesecake.

"I am absolutely stuffed," proclaimed Tyrion the second he finished his sticky toffee pudding. "Shae, don't ever let me eat again."

"I'll try," she replied with a sceptical laugh, before taking a sip of her martini, "but I doubt it will work."

"I want to eat here tomorrow night," announced the Hound, as if _The Winterfell Hotel_ had alternative choices. "That Creamy Herb Chicken was incredible."

"We know, you hoovered it up," smirked Robb.

Smiling at his collection of rather stuffed looking friends, Jaime turned to Brienne. "Did you enjoy your dinner, wench?"

"Yes," she smiled, flushed with the effort of digestion, "but I think I need to walk it off."

"That's brave. I think if I attempted any exercise right now, I might explode, so me and Sandor might just go back to our room," interjected Sansa, rubbing her belly.

"I suppose I'd better go and ring Myrcella to check Tommen hasn't blown up the house," mused Tyrion, stroking his chin.

Shae let out a little chuckle. "And then I'd better ring Tommen, just to check Myrcella hasn't smuggled her boyfriend into the house while we are away."

There was then a general agreement that the group would split up and head off to bed for an early night; considering the drama of the minibus breaking down, everybody was quite tired. And most importantly of all, Margaery wanted to try to call little Alerie again.

"What do you want to do, wench?" asked Jaime, wrapping one arm around his wife's shoulder. He thought she should go back to their hotel room and cuddle up in the warm together; they had both had a stressful day, after all. "Go back to the room? I could make you tea."

Brienne thought about it for a moment, before stretching like a spoilt kitten. There was something in her expression that made Jaime think she was preparing for a debate. "A walk would be nice, don't you think? Although it is a bit cold, I could do with the exercise."

"Okay, I'll come with you," said Jaime, standing up and slipping his jacket on. He could tell she was in a little bit of a confrontational mood, so decided acquiescing was his best option. And, anyway, he would not let her wander around in the cold alone. "There is a nice garden out back. Maybe we can take in the view."

After putting the bill for dinner on the room and saying goodbye to their friends and colleagues, Jaime took Brienne's hand and led her out of the exit of the restaurant. Laid out before them was the castle's godswood, filled with ancient English oak trees and blue winter flowers. "Winterfell Castle was famed for its godswood in the medieval period," claimed Brienne, swinging their joined hands as they walked.

"Where did you find that out?" asked Jaime, impressed.

"The internet," she smiled, bumping his shoulder. "I do my research, you know. _The Winterfell Hotel_ is an architecturally significant site."

Jaime could not help but smile; whatever they did together, Brienne _always_ made sure she was prepared. "Is it?" grinned Jaime teasingly. "Well, wench, tell me about it. What did you learn on Wikipedia about the history of _The Winterfell_?"

Then, unsurprisingly, Brienne took him for a walk around the hotel, pointing out every significant detail. They started in the godswood, before exiting out through the North Gate, and walking around the perimeter of the castle, beside what used to be the battlements.

"That's the Broken Tower," said Brienne, pointing up to one of the tallest towers of _The Winterfell Hotel,_ proudly thrusting into the sky. "Hundreds of years ago, it was hit by lightning."

"Is that the tower that Lyanna said she had done up to contain the presidential suite?" asked Jaime, remembering the conversation in the car.

Brienne nodded and squeezed his hand. "Yep. That's the one. If you look closely, you can see the stonework is not authentically medieval. It's all just too straight."

From there, they continued walking along the outer wall of the hotel, with Brienne highlighting the First Keep next. "That was the first bit of the castle that was built soon after the Norman Conquest. It was the centre of Winterfell for over three hundred years, until the Great Keep was built in a more modern style. That is where most of the hotel rooms are, including our own, but there are also a few over in the old library tower."

"I think the late arrivals for the award ceremony are probably being put in there," mused Jaime, thinking the rooms generally inferior. "Apart from Barristan Selmy himself, no doubt."

"Mmm," agreed Brienne, nodding slowly. "He is the Minister of Justice, after all."

"Quite. Although, to be honest, I like our room in the Great Keep. Not only is it closer to _The Winter Rose_ and therefore food, but the new library is quite near to our room too."

"Is it?" said Brienne, surprised, clearly not having read that on Wikipedia.

Jaime nodded and then used his prosthetic hand to point up to the balcony in the Great Keep that could just been seen over the parapets. "You see there? Lyanna was telling Jon in the car that she had that medieval balcony restored when she was redoing the library, so that must be it. Apparently, guests are more than welcome to take a book, sit outside, and look at Winter Town from the library balcony. I bet it must be the best view in the hotel, apart from that from the Presidential Suite, of course."

After passing the First Keep, Jaime and Brienne arrived at the East Gate, which was the back entrance to the Great Keep, where their rooms were located. "Are you ready to go back inside?" asked Brienne, blowing warm air out like a dragon. "I know we didn't walk far, but it is bloody cold."

"I'm ready if you are," said Jaime, squeezing her fingers. In truth, he was happy; he wanted her safe in the warm, after all. "I suppose we should get an early night anyway. Who knows how long we will stay up at the award ceremony after-party tomorrow night?"

Brienne let out a little giggle. "Very true. We should get our beauty sleep."

"That we should, wench," replied Jaime, letting go of her hand so he could wrap his arm around her shoulder. "That we should."

Once they were back in the room, Jaime firmly instructed Brienne to get in the shower first. She just pouted at him. "What? Don't you want to get in with me?"

"Insatiable wench," chided Jaime with a laugh.

"I _am_ pregnant, my hormones are all over the place," she replied, raising a teasing eyebrow at him. "And as my husband, you _are_ contractually obliged to satisfy my needs. _With my body, I thee worship,_ as I believe you said at our wedding."

Shaking his head in amusement, Jaime went over to the suitcase and started unpacking it properly. "No, I never got to that part, because of the crazy loon with the shotgun. So go get showered. We need to settle in and then get into bed. I will not have you tired and grumpy tomorrow." At that statement, the teasing glee seemed to slowly dissipate from Brienne's face, but she did not give him the chance to respond with anything reassuring. Instead, she turned away from him, gathered up her pyjamas, and disappeared into the bathroom.

"Call me if you need my help!" Jaime said loudly. However, he got no answer from Brienne, who turned the shower on almost the instant she shut the door.

 _What have I done now?_ wondered Jaime exasperatedly, sensing the chill emanating from behind the door as he moved away from the bathroom door and started unpacking. _She can be so awkward sometimes._

With the sound of running water echoing from the shower, Jaime began to travel round the room making sure everything was in the right place; he got out Brienne's fleece and put it next to her side of the bed in case she got cold in the night, placed her pregnancy pillow in the right place for her to sleep on, and even made her a cup of tea and put it on her nightstand. He was so prepared that by the time she came out of the bathroom, wrapped in _The Winterfell Hotel's_ monogrammed dressing gown, Jaime had his own washbag and pyjamas prepared.

"The shower is free," she said gently, fixing him with her astonishing blue eyes that he loved so well. Jaime went to reply in thanks, but before he could do so, Brienne undid the tie around her waist and shucked the dressing down over her shoulders, letting it pool to her feet. "Or," Brienne whispered, breathy with desire, "you could just come to bed."

Jaime froze. In the soft evening light, every single one of Brienne's freckles seemed stark against her white skin, and her body seemed a perfectly sculpted configuration of smooth curves. Her swollen breasts. Her round, heavy belly. Her inviting smile. The way she was looking at him was so heated, so filthy and lustful, that it went straight to his cock. But then he remembered.

_She's my wife. She's carrying my child. I should be looking after her, not using her for my pleasure. It's one thing entirely to do what we did this afternoon - making it about her, and her needs - but now?_

As his eyes skimmed Brienne's belly, Jaime thought of a time long ago when his mother had bled to death on the bathroom floor giving life to Tyrion, with only himself and Cersei for company. As his mother's blood pooled on the floor, Cersei had screamed and cried, but Jaime had been silent, one question reverberating round and round his head.

_Where is father?_

Brienne needed her husband to think of her, not of himself. She was _fragile,_ in her current state, not his normal robust Brienne. His _wench._ Therefore, Jaime knew had to be careful with her and would not neglect and leave her like his father had done to his mother. Consequently, instead of acquiescing to her suggestion, he leant forward and pressed a kiss on her temple.

"Go to bed," he ordered her softly. "I need a shower. We'll have a cuddle after, okay?"

Moving past her quickly so he did not have to see her disappointment, Jaime went into the bathroom to have a shower hoping that, once he was out, Brienne would be in the mood to listen. Unfortunately, by the time he had showered, changed into his pyjamas, and brushed his teeth, he discovered his wife was curled up in bed with her eyes closed.

Fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I would love to hear what you think!
> 
> Next Chapter... Brienne meets some of the other guests who have arrived for the prize giving...


	5. The Crannogmen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne spends Saturday morning at the hotel...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. I am sorry this has taken so long! I have so many WIPs and I was just really struggling with this chapter. Still, I am finally back on track, and I hope you enjoy :)

When Brienne woke up on Saturday morning, it was so bright it took some time to become fully accustomed to the light. As she was curled up in the foetal position on her side, her arms wrapped protectively around her belly, she only knew Jaime was there because she could feel him pressed up against her back.

Him and his morning wood.

In spite of the fact she was still a little irritated with him for his behaviour the previous evening, Brienne could not help but melt into the bed when she felt _that._ Hungry for Jaime at the best of times, now she was hormonal, pregnant, and incredibly uncomfortable, she was ravenous for the relief that his body could bring hers. Consequently, Brienne pressed her arse back into his hardness, trying to excite him and make him do _something_ to her.

Last night, he had hurt her feelings. Although, she had tried her best - by being flirtatious, getting naked, and attempting to be close to him - Jaime had brushed her off with a kiss and nothing more. Up until that very moment, Brienne had thought that his reluctance to continue their love life as usual was all part of his anxiety surrounding the pregnancy, but as he had turned her down just as she had shucked off her dressing gown, a horrible idea crossed her mind.

_He's not attracted to me anymore, not now I am pregnant._

That was an unsettling thought. For much of her life, Brienne had tortured herself over how she looked - her tree trunk legs, her ugly face, her broad shoulders - but now she was pregnant, with hers and Jaime's baby resting under her heart, she felt beautiful. They had tried so long to have a baby that now it had happened, her whole body felt like a miracle, and for the first time in her life she was approaching loving herself.

Yet was it possible that Jaime felt differently?

As she continued to move against him, Jaime began to stir. Wanting him to know that this was deliberate and purposeful, Brienne reached back and grasped his hip, trying to draw him into her. When she did so, Jaime's breathing changed, which indicated to her that he was finally awake.

"Wench," he mumbled, rubbing his face unconsciously onto the nape of her neck. "Good morning."

"Good morning, my love," she purred, tightening her grip on his hip as she unrelentingly rubbed herself against him.

Unfortunately, Jaime did not respond immediately and even tried to move away. "Don't do that. You'll get me all excited."

"And what if I want to get you all excited?" she purred, putting on her best seductress voice as she pushed herself against him again. "What if I like this?"

"You're pregnant..."

Turning over to face him, Brienne tried to not to roll her eyes. "Yes, Jaime. I'm pregnant, but that doesn't change anything. We are on holiday in a romantic castle with no set time to get up, no commitments, and the space to just enjoy each other. So let me get you all excited. I want to get you all excited. _Please."_

At her request, Jaime pulled such a conflicted expression that Brienne had no choice but to kiss it away. The second her lips were on his, Jaime let out a loud little moan of protest, but before long, his mouth softened against hers and they were kissing as if there was nothing to worry about. Wanting to feel him even more, Brienne lifted one hand and bunched it in his hair, holding onto his kiss as if she feared he would flee.

As their tongues tangled with each other, Brienne wasted no time in taking her free hand and shoving it down his pyjama bottoms, wrapping her fingers around his shaft and applying rough, firm strokes. Jaime let out a little gasp as she did so, but Brienne continued unabashed. Normally, she would take more time - teasing, tormenting - but she was so worried that Jaime would change his mind that Brienne just kept rubbing him furiously, caring more for his pleasure than her own. Given the incessant pressure on his cock, Jaime's mouth became slack against her own, so she took the opportunity to suck his tongue firmly, trapping it between her teeth. When he pulled back, Brienne gave an indignant little huff and nipped at his bottom lip. She only realised she had done it too hard when she tasted blood.

"Brienne," Jaime said sharply. "Stop. You're hurting me."

Blushing at her mistake, she tried to apologise. "Jaime, I'm sorry, I just..."

"You don't need to do this," he insisted, grabbing hold of her wrist and stopping her from stroking him. "If you feel you need to keep me satisfied while you are pregnant or something... you don't. I promise you, I'm fine."

"I don't feel I _need_ to keep you satisfied; I _want_ to," Brienne replied, trying to free herself from his grasp so she could find some other way to please him. "You are my husband. I want to have sex with you, I want..."

"We had sex yesterday," Jaime said gently, tender as a kiss.

"You weren't inside me," Brienne croaked, her voice breaking with emotion. "You weren't inside me and I miss that, Jaime. I miss you."

His eyes widened in surprise. "I haven't gone anywhere."

She wanted to tell him that it felt like he had, only to be replaced by this worrying, panicking, fretting Mother Hen she barely recognised as the man she had fallen in love with while on the beat. However, there was such confusion in Jaime's eyes that she couldn't bring herself to say it. "I know but... I just want to spend time with my _husband_ while we are on holiday. And not just drinking tea and having dinner together. Let me fuck you, Jaime. I really, _really_ want to fuck you."

Even though she knew she sounded desperate, Brienne hardly cared, because she longed for Jaime to know how much she desired him, needed him, wanted him, loved him. She watched as her words sunk in, slow and sure, hoping that it would make him understand. However, in the end, his eyes dimmed as he let go of her wrist.

"I think," began Jaime slowly, choosing his words with care, "that it is more important that you are fed and comfortable than me getting my end away."

In spite of her plan to go gentle with her attempt to persuade him, that statement made Brienne groan in annoyance. "Is that what you believe I think sex with you is like? Me just letting you get your end away? Me just letting you use my body, is that what you think?"

Jaime's eyes went very wide. "No, of course I don't!"

"Because I enjoy sex just as much as you do, Jaime, so I am not just doing you a favour when we sleep together. I like the experience; the _mutual_ experience," Brienne snapped, just as her eyes filled with tears.

 _Oh crap,_ she thought. _Hormones._

"Wench, don't get upset..."

"I'm _not_ upset!" Brienne hissed, trying to launch herself away from him, but discovering she was suffering from the beached whale problem. "I'm... angry... because... you... don't... see... me... as... your... wife... anymore... you... just... see... this... big... pregnant... lump!"

As Brienne finally succeeded in getting out of the bed, Jaime jumped to his feet, quick as a hare. The fact that he was still the same - his body unchanged and beautiful while Brienne was heavily restricted by her pregnancy - suddenly made her enraged.

"Brienne..."

"No, Jaime!" she said, all her feelings coming out in hormonal, angry tears. "I just want things to be normal, and you are not treating me normally!"

He rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "But things aren't normal. You are _pregnant."_

"Yes, I'm pregnant!" she thundered. "Pregnant, not dead!"

For some reason, at that statement, Jaime's face flickered with fear. "I know that Brienne, but I just want to make sure you are alright. I don't want to put you under any extra stress."

"Having... sex... with... you... does... not... stress... me... out!" she sobbed, furious that her bloody pregnancy hormones were making her cry. "I _love_ it. Being with you makes me happy!"

Turning away from him, her vision blurred by tears, Brienne expected Jaime to shoot back at her. Instead, Jaime came and scooped his arms around her, before kissing her on the cheek. "Awww, you like me, wench," he said gently, attempting to be teasing by pressing his cheek against hers.

"Stop being cute," she sniffed, holding onto her annoyance as a shield.

"But you like me when I'm cute."

"I _love_ you," she replied, resting her arms on his in order to draw him closer. "And I want to feel close to you."

Brienne knew he was smiling, because she could feel it against her cheek, even though she couldn't see it. "I love you too, wench, so if you want me to have sex with you, I will."

Although she knew he was trying to be sweet, Jaime's statement only made her cry harder. "I don't want you to feel obliged, I want you to want me."

"I _do_ want you," Jaime replied, turning her head with his prosthetic hand so he could look into her eyes. "It's just... I'm stressed at the moment..."

"Then let me help you to de-stress," said Brienne imploringly, "let me make you feel good."

As Jaime's expression was soft and tender, Brienne felt no qualms in kissing him, licking at the seam of his mouth to convince him to open up to her. However, instead of obliging, Jaime pulled away. "I promise we will do it today. I promise. I'll make time, it's just... I feel the moment is gone."

Swallowing down her disappointment, Brienne tried to smile. "Okay, my love, but I am holding you to that promise."

Normally, Jaime's face would light up at that idea - all anticipation and excitement - as he purred _oh, please make sure I fulfil it._ This time, however, he only managed to muster a smile that did not touch his eyes.

"I will make time. I promise."

* * *

As Jaime went to get showered and changed, Brienne could not help but feel a knot slowly tie itself at the pit of her stomach. In spite of her very best efforts, Jaime had pushed her away, which Brienne found to be a totally new experience when it came to their love life. Normally, he was so handsy that people teased him for it, but now... he just seemed distant. For most of their relationship, he had taken every opportunity to have her whenever they wanted. Wanting the old days back, Brienne plastered on a fake smile as she went to get ready, mainly due to his promise that they would try again later.

 _He's stressed too,_ she reminded herself, _so I have to be helpful to him._

After they were both washed and dressed, they headed down to _The Winter Rose_ for their breakfast. As they had to cross the courtyard to get there, they discovered that the weather had got much worse overnight, and the whole hotel was covered in a fine layer of snow.

"And it is still going," said Jaime, acknowledging the obvious as snowflakes caught in his hair.

With his head sprinkled with snow, Brienne thought he looked so cute that she almost told him off when he brushed them away. "Do you think the weather will worsen?"

Jaime shrugged. "Maybe, but even if it does, it will be nice to see the views of Winter Town looking like a White Christmas."

When they arrived at _The Winter Rose,_ they found most of their friends and colleagues gathered at the table, already having ordered their breakfasts or tucked into the buffet. While most were looking a little sleepy and satiated because of the food, Margaery was in an excitable mood as she gave Brienne wave the second that she entered the restaurant.

"Look at this!" Margaery beamed, holding out her phone for Brienne to see. "Alerie's just experienced her first snow, and Grandma has taken pictures with her in the garden. Isn't she cute?"

"I'll go and get us some food from the buffet," Jaime muttered, as Brienne sat down next to Margaery and watched her flick through the photos of Olenna and Alerie. In every single one, little Alerie was staring up at the little flakes of strange white stuff in awed wonder, while Olenna was laughing affectionately.

With his mouth full of croissant, Robb Stark leant over Margaery's shoulder to look at the photos of their baby. "Oooh, that's a nice one," he said through a mouthful of half-eaten pastry, "can you send that one to me? I want to put it as my screensaver."

"I'll send you them _all_ ," said Margaery authoritatively, "you need to have all the pictures of your daughter's first snow at your disposal."

By the time Margaery had sent them all to Robb, Jaime returned to the table, balancing two plates of buffet food on his arm. As he leant down to offer her one, Brienne pecked him on the cheek. She didn't want to fight with him, or be angry at him, so she hoped that small intimate gesture would help assuage the earlier unhappiness.

Once he had sat down next to her and put his own plate on the table, Jaime put a protective arm around her shoulders and a soothing hand on her belly, enclosing her in his warmth. "What are you guys looking at?" he asked, his eyes on Margaery and Robb who were still staring at their phones.

"Oh," interrupted Bronn loudly from the other side of the table, "they're discussing pictures that Olenna took of Alerie in the snow. They're quite sweet."

Needing Jaime to validate her daughter's cuteness, Margaery turned her phone around to him to show her a picture of Alerie staring curiously at Olenna making a snowball. Unfortunately, Jaime missed the entire point of the conversation, so instead said, "ooh, it's snowing more heavily in Casterly, so maybe the weather will get worse here later."

"That's why we need to make the most of our opportunity!" interrupted the Hound suddenly from the other end of the table. Although he was talking to Jon, Arya, Gendry, Sansa, Tyrion, and Shae, it seemed that Jaime's observation about the weather had become momentarily useful to him, so he clung onto it tightly. "The weather is getting worse and Joff really needs a walk. We don't have anything to do until the award ceremony this evening, so I vote we go for a stroll down to Winter Town. The fresh air will do us all good."

Sansa rolled her eyes at her boyfriend's enthusiasm. "I will need some time to get ready for the reception, so we will have to be back by this afternoon if we are going to go. This hair is a _lot_ of hard work."

"Fine," said the Hound, rolling his eyes, "but I still want to go. As I said, Joff will go stir crazy if we don't go out, and if the weather takes a turn for the worse, I won't be able to take him. Who is with me?"

"I'm in," chirped Jon.

As everyone at the opposite end of the table had clearly been discussing this for some time, there was a general feeling of agreement, with only Pia, Tyrion, and Shae dissenting. "I want to go check out the spa treatments," said Shae, flipping her hair. "I thought Lyanna said _The Winterfell_ had an in-house masseuse."

"I also think there might be a sauna and a mud bath," added Pia. "I think I saw signs for them when we were down in the Hot Springs yesterday."

"Okay," said the Hound, pleased that the group were slowly coming to an agreement. "That's settled. If people want, they can go to the spa, but if not, they can come for a walk with me and Joff."

Sansa raised her hand, not as if she had a question but to interject her idea. "But we _must_ be back by lunchtime. Some of us need the afternoon to beautify ourselves."

When Arya started sniggering, the Hound shot her a look that clearly said _be quiet, I have almost brokered this deal,_ before turning back to his girlfriend. "That's a good idea, Sansa. I am not sure there are any places to eat in Winter Town anyway."

At his acquiescence, Sansa gave the Hound a peck on the cheek which caused him to blush a rose red. Lost in his girlfriend's approval, Sandor totally relinquished control over the conversation, allowing Gendry to take over. "What do you guys think?" he asked, signalling up the table. "Do you want to come?"

Bronn nodded instantly. "Yeah, I'll come. I need to go for a smoke anyway, and Lyanna won't let me do it on _The Winterfell's_ premises."

"That's because it is illegal to smoke in any enclosed workspace due to the Health Act 2006, Bronn," said Brienne with a smile, remembering the way she had cut down the Robbs with that fact during her early days in Casterly, "not because of Lyanna's particularly cruelty."

"Me and Robb will come too," said Margaery, turning to her boyfriend. "I think it will be nice to take some photos of us in the snow that Grandma can show to Alerie."

Laughing, Robb rolled his eyes affectionately. "How many times, Marg. Alerie is a _baby._ She won't know it is a photo of you!"

"Of course she will!" squawked Margaery indignantly, "I am her mummy."

As Robb and Margaery started bickering about whether Alerie was cognizant enough to recognise a photo of her own mother, Gendry turned to Jaime and Brienne. "What about you two? Fancy coming?"

"I could do with a walk," admitted Jaime, while rubbing small soothing circles on Brienne's belly. "What about you, wench? Do you want to come?"

Although the prospect was tempting, Brienne had seen how long the walk to Winter Town was when Lyanna had first driven them to the hotel, so she did not think it was a very sensible idea given how late it was into her pregnancy. "I am alright, actually," she said, smiling at Jaime. "I think I might have a relaxing morning."

"You can come to the spa with us?" suggested Pia, brightly, but Brienne shook her head.

"Thanks for the offer, but I might just have a rest. I'm a little sore today."

At that confession, Jaime looked at her concernedly. "Do you want me to stay with you? If you don't feel good?"

In spite of her attempts not too, Brienne chuckled at his over-protectiveness. "No, it's okay. Go and enjoy your walk. I will just make the most of all the facilities this gorgeous hotel has to offer."

"Are you sure?" asked Jaime, wanting to make absolutely sure that she was happy.

"Positive," Brienne replied, before kissing him on the cheek again. "Go and enjoy your walk.

Given that everybody was finally committed to the _going for a walk_ idea, the Hound clapped his hands together. "Good. We shall head off after breakfast. Deal?"

While everyone else broke out into a hubbub of agreement, Brienne drew her mouth close to Jaime's ear in order to whisper to him. Putting on her most seductive voice, Brienne said, "make sure you are back at lunchtime, my love, because you definitely need to use this afternoon to keep your promise."

Jaime went so red at that comment, that Brienne was momentarily worried he would explode.

* * *

Given that she and Jaime had taken a walk around the entire perimeter of _The Winterfell Hotel_ the day previously, once everybody had headed off for their walk or to the spa, Brienne decided to explore the interior; namely, the bits of the hotel she had not yet seen. Other than the restaurant, the bar, and the Hot Springs, she had actually had very little time to look around _The Winterfell_ , so eagerly took the opportunity now it was presented to her.

Walking across the courtyard from _The Winter Rose_ , Brienne stopped at the old stables, which she soon discovered Lyanna had converted into a games room. Attracted by the ricocheting sound of a pinball machine, Brienne went inside. The room was brightly decorated, with baby blue walls and big windows that let in the light. Apart from the aforementioned pinball machine, there was also a huge pool table as well as an air hockey table. A group of three people Brienne didn't recognise were gathered around the latter, while Bran Stark was playing at the pinball machine. He smiled the second he saw her.

"Hey Brienne. What are you doing here?" asked Bran, still blasting his game as he did so.

"I'm just exploring the hotel," she said, resting one hand on her belly, "what about you?"

"Oh, I've just come to play games with Howland, Meera, and Jojen. Everyone else has gone for a walk, but it is pretty awkward in my wheelchair in the snow."

Brienne gave him an uneasy smile. She had always been a little unsure of how to approach Bran Stark; it had been Jaime, after all, that had put him in his wheelchair in the first place. Luckily, however, she had the distraction of the three strangers who were gathered around the air hockey table, who Bran was gesturing towards. The older looking man had a salt-and-pepper beard and seemed to be in his early fifties, while the younger man and the woman with matching dark hair and green eyes were in their twenties. When Bran signalled across to them, it was the woman who stepped forward.

"Hello, I am Meera," she smiled, holding her hand out to shake. "And this is my dad Howland and my brother Jojen. It's nice to meet you."

Brienne took her hand while wearing a friendly grin, "the pleasure is all mine. How do you know Bran?"

However, it was not Meera that answered, but Howland. "I am his brother Robb's godfather," he said, watching Brienne with wary eyes.

Wanting to smooth over any awkwardness she had just accidentally stumbled into, Brienne gave him an over-enthusiastic nod. "Oh! I didn't know that! I work with Robb, you see."

"At the Casterly Constabulary?"

"Yes... I'm the Chief there actually," she said, trying not to sound too boastful.

Howland's eyes widened in surprise. "You must be the one who campaigned for Ned to be given his prize. Thank you, he deserved it."

"No worries," Brienne confirmed, pleased to have his approval. Although she had never met Howland before, there was something strangely calm and authoritative about him. "When I first arrived in Casterly, I uncovered a conspiracy surrounding Tywin Lannister and the NWA. Everything I had put together, Ned had beaten me to, so I thought it was only right that he be recognised for his sterling work."

At that statement, Howland smiled at her wistfully. "He was an excellent policeman. I was his best friend when we were children, and his police partner after Jon Arryn retired."

"You were?" asked Brienne intrigued, as Jojen and Meera were back to playing air hockey.

"For a few years," said Howland, nodding slowly, "but I eventually quit the service and moved my wife and children to Greywater, over in the Welsh Marches. I'd had enough of Casterly."

At Howland's bitter tone, Brienne furrowed her brow in confusion. Ever since she had arrived in Casterly from London, she had fallen in love with the village. She wasn't sure how much that was the charms of the village or the fact that she had found friends and the love of her life, but she could never imagine leaving Casterly now. "Oh, what inspired you to leave?" Brienne asked casually, the detective in her wanting to dig a little deeper.

To her surprise, Howland looked down at his feet, clearly a little unwilling to answer her question. Instead, Meera took the opportunity to pipe up. "You know there are just sometimes cases that shake you to your very core?"

"Yes," replied Brienne. She still had nightmares about Melara Hetherspoon.

"Well, Dad had one of those."

Intrigued, Brienne looked back at Howland, trying to suss out what it could possibly be. However, just at that moment her search was interrupted by Bran, who clearly won at pinball and let out a hoot of excitement. The distraction allowed Howland to smile at Bran, before changing the topic entirely.

"Do you fancy a game of table tennis, Brienne?" he asked, his green eyes strangely unreadable.

Knowing he was not going to tell her about this mysterious case, Brienne just smiled at him and agreed with his plan. "Alright, Howland, but I warn you... I'm not very good."

* * *

After Howland had flattened her at table tennis, the five of them had engaged in a highly competitive air hockey tournament. The group then decided to return to the bar for a drink before lunch. As they trudged their way across the courtyard, they stalled several times, as Bran's wheelchair became stuck in the snow. However, they eventually made it, even though it was near enough a blizzard by the time they stumbled into the bar.

"Right, what do you want to drink?" asked Jojen, pointing at everyone in turn. "This round is on me."

As Brienne sat down in her chair, she came up with her answer very quickly. "A cranberry juice for me."

"Oooh!" interjected Meera. "And for me. That sounds nice."

"I'll just have a black coffee, Jo," said Howland, before Jojen went off to put their orders in place.

Leaning back into the comfort of her chair, Brienne looked out of the window. She wondered how the party who had journeyed down to Winter Town were faring; the snow had got quite heavy, and she was not sure that Jaime was wearing his thermal underwear.

_Still, maybe I will be able to warm him up in my own special way when he gets back._

Just as she was mulling on the exact technique that she was going to use to relax her husband, the door behind the bar swung open, revealing Lyanna. Although she had arrived to check the supplies, on spotting Jojen, she smiled. "Jojen! I didn't know you had arrived!"

"Yep, a few hours ago," he smiled. "I came with Dad and Meera."

When Jojen mentioned him, Howland stood up, his grave green eyes fixed firmly on the owner of _The Winterfell Hotel._ "Hello, Lyanna."

For some reason, Lyanna's smile seemed to wilt slightly under his gaze. "Hello Howland. It is nice to see you. It has been a long time."

"It has," Howland agreed, his voice barely showing any emotion.

Confused about the intense stare that Howland and Lyanna were sharing, Brienne was about to ask what was going on, when the door to the courtyard swung open and Jon came inside resembling a snowman. At his appearance, Howland and Lyanna exchanged a quick glance - conspiratorial and secret - just before Jon began babbling about what had happened to the intrepid explorers who had gone out into the snow.

"Guys, you won't _believe_ who we rescued on our walk!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! As ever, I would love to hear what you think in the form of comments and kudos. I write for pleasure and publish for feedback, after all!
> 
> Next chapter... Jaime goes for a walk to Winter Town, and bumps into an unexpected person...


	6. The Minister for Justice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and the others go for a walk to Winter Town...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for coming back! I had a stab of inspiration with this one, so I hope you enjoy! There are some Book!Brienne quotes in this chapter (which I have played around with), so well done if you spot them :)

By the time the Casterly Constabularly left for their morning walk, the weather had got a little worse. Growing from a fine sheet of snow, the path down to Winter Town was now covered in a thick layer, so much so that it looked like an iced Christmas cake. Consequently, Jaime had wrapped up warm in his scarf and his coat, while his wench stayed back at the hotel. He thought it was sensible, but missed her all the same. Therefore, as he followed the Hound and the others out of _The Winterfell's_ great east gate, Jaime could not help but think about Brienne. He hoped she didn't do anything too adventurous while he was away but, knowing her, she was likely to try just to demonstrate she could. Jaime loved Brienne for that trait but, at the same time, it could sometimes be bloody infuriating.

As they walked down to Winter Town, Jaime still mulling on Brienne, he fell into step with Robb Stark and Jon, who were chatting animatedly about Ned's award as Jon shuffled along on his crutches. The Hound and Sansa were forging the path ahead, led by Joff, while Margaery, Podrick, and Robb Arryn were following behind, taking pictures in the snow. Arya and Gendry were throwing snowballs, which repeatedly hit Bronn and Ilyn. This friendly fire meant that the two-way snowball fight eventually became four-way. Although Robb laughed along, Jaime barely noticed as he was still lost in thoughts of Brienne. He hated that he had made her cry, because he _hated_ seeing her upset, but at the same time, he thought she was being totally irrational. They only had a month left before they were going to be parents, and Jaime thought that Brienne was taking it all so lightly that it was almost painful. She wanted him to treat her normally, but things weren't _normal._ His mother had seemed relaxed and happy in the weeks up to Tyrion's birth too, and it meant that Tywin Lannister had felt comfortable enough to leave on a business trip. Consequently, Jaime and Cersei had been the only ones there when their mother went into labour.

Cersei had screamed and screamed, while Jaime had gone away inside.

"What are you looking so pensive about?" came a voice.

Pulling himself out of his dark memories, Jaime found that the voice belonged to Jon Snow and both he and Robb were looking at him quizzically.

"Nothing much," he said, with a shrug, but when he saw that was not a good enough answer, he offered, "Brienne."

Robb rolled his eyes. "God, do you think about anything else?"

"Occasionally," smirked Jaime, trying to think of his wife's blue eyes rather his mother's blood running between his fingers. "She's a pretty good person to think about."

As Jon smiled, Robb pretended to vomit. "You two are so gross."

"I'm sorry I love my wife," said Jaime with a laugh, "but I can't help it. She's awesome."

Robb chuckled in response and slapped him on the back, while Jon looked at Jaime quizzically. "How is everything going with Brienne? Do you have everything prepared for the birth?"

"We've painted the nursery a gender-neutral colour, as we chose not to know if we are having a girl or a boy, and I've had the birthing bag packed and prepared for the last month, if that's what you mean," said Jaime, not quite meeting Jon's eye.

"I was thinking more about how you are feeling," replied Jon, as if he could read Jaime's mind. "Are you and Brienne ready to be parents?"

Was he ready to be a father? Jaime thought Brienne would make a wonderful mother - kind, caring, and an awesome role model - but he wasn't sure about his own qualifications to fatherhood. Jaime's only example in his own life had been his homicidal maniac of a father, and not having an exemplary model made Jaime feel strangely unprepared for the task at hand. Brienne had repeatedly reassured him otherwise.

 _You are going to be a great father,_ she had told him one night when they were in bed together. _Our baby is going to be so lucky to call you their dad._

Jaime tried to believe her.

"Mostly," he lied, giving Jon and Robb a crooked half-smile, "although I think I am more worried about Brienne's behaviour during her pregnancy than anything else."

Robb narrowed his eyes at him. "Why? What has she done?"

Blushing, Jaime bit his lip. For a few moments, he considered whether he should say anything at all, but then he realised that he needed some help to work out the best course of action, and Robb and Jon were as good bet as any.

"Robb?"

"Mmm?"

"You know when Margaery was pregnant..."

"Yeah?"

"Was she... um...?"

"What?"

Jaime took a deep breath. "Was she... well... was she kind of...?"

"Come on Jaime!" laughed Robb. "Spit it out!"

Knowing he had little choice, Jaime decided to get it all over as quickly as possible. "Well, was Margaery sort of... insatiable?"

Both Jon and Robb looked at Jaime as if he had gone mad. After glancing at each other, Robb said, "what do you mean insatiable?"

"Like, really hungry?" asked Jon, looking at Jaime confusedly.

"No, Jon, not like really hungry," replied Jaime tersely, "Brienne... wants to bang me... _all the time._ "

If Jaime had been expecting some kind of sympathetic understanding, he was severely disappointed as both Robb and Jon burst out into laughter. While Robb clutched at his sides, Jon threw his head back, as if it was the funniest thing he had ever heard.

"What?" asked Jaime, irritated that Rob and Jon were treating the situation so lightly. "What are you laughing about?"

"You," grinned Robb, shaking his head. "You and Brienne spend years getting it on in the station and all around the village, and suddenly now your wife is pregnant you are calling her _insatiable._ "

As Robb and Jon continued to laugh, Jaime just got more annoyed. "It's not funny. This is a serious issue." Unfortunately, Robb and Jon didn't seem to agree, as they continued to guffaw. Annoyed, Jaime just tried to talk over them, "so I was just interested if you had experienced the same thing with Margaery and what you did about it, because it's really making things bloody difficult between me and Brienne at the moment...."

When he managed to stop laughing, Robb furrowed his brow as he smiled at Jaime. "Yes, Margaery wanted to sleep with me while she was pregnant, and do you know what I did about it?"

"What?" asked Jaime, glad to have something approaching an answer.

"I slept with her. She loved it. I loved it. It was great."

At Robb's answer, Jon gave Jaime a thumbs up, which Jaime found completely baffling, considering the fact he thought that would not solve his and Brienne's problems at all. "But I can't sleep with Brienne!" spluttered Jaime, thinking of his wife all vulnerable and uncomfortable with his baby inside of her.

"Why not?" asked Jon.

"Because... because..."

"Is this some big Madonna-whore complex thing?" asked Robb, raising an intrigued eyebrow.

Now it was Jaime's turn to be confused. "What are you even talking about?"

"Well, don't quote me on it, but during one of Margaery's feminists rants, she was trying to tell me that in certain men there is a division between the sexual and affectionate currents in desire. By putting a woman they love on a pedestal, they see her as a Madonna, and therefore cannot have sexual feelings for her. Women they have no care for become whores in his imagination, so therefore they feel as if they can have sex with them... or something."

Although Jaime's cheeks were pink with embarrassment, they turned red with anger. "Are you saying I think Brienne is a whore?"

"No," replied Robb, giving Jaime a conciliatory pat on the shoulder, "I'm saying you now see her as a Madonna. I fell asleep during whatever Margaery was saying so I missed the last bit, but like men who get their wives pregnant stop seeing them as women and start seeing them as sexless-mother figures. Do you think that's what has happened with you and Brienne?"

To complete the spectrum of blushes, Jaime then went red thinking about the way Brienne had tried to excite him that morning. It really was so hard to resist her. "Of course I'm still sexually attracted to Brienne! Have you seen her? With her really long legs, and her blue eyes, and her..."

"Yes I have," interrupted Robb, a little sarcastically, "and although she has many positive attributes and is a great boss, she's always been a little bit terrifying for my tastes."

"And mine," confessed Jon.

When Robb saw Jaime's rather cross expression, he held up his hands. "That's not to say Brienne isn't _lovely..._ "

"You just have to know how to bring out her soft side," said Jaime, folding his arms across his chest. "You just need to tease her a bit, then be all cuddly and..."

Robb raised his hands in surrender. "Please. I do not want to know how you seduce your wife."

"Then can you try and give me a better solution to my problem that just _sleep with her,_ " muttered Jaime grumpily, suddenly desiring to march away and not talk to Robb and Jon anymore.

However, Robb was clearly not having any of Jaime's sulking. "I don't quite get why you seem so against the idea of having sex with Brienne, your _wife_ , the woman you say you are still sexually attracted to. It is not going to do her any damage if the two of you get it on while she's pregnant; in fact, it will probably cheer her up, the orgasms will help ease her soreness, and it can also help lower her blood pressure."

As one, Jon and Jaime turned to Robb. "How do you know that?"

"I can Google," said Robb with a shrug. "And, anyway, Margaery and I checked with the doctor and she said it was fine for us to continue to have sex while she was pregnant, even in the third trimester. It's healthy, it's fun, so just do it."

Although Jaime thought what Robb was saying sounded eminently sensible, there was something inside him - anxious and itchy - that was compelling him to fight back. "What you don't understand is..."

"Hey! Guys! Come over here! We need your help!" cried Sansa.

Whatever Jaime was going to say was then washed away by the hubbub that exploded into the cold winter air at the sound of Sansa's voice. As Jaime, Jon, Robb, and the snowball fighters looked up, Sansa waved a summoning hand at them, causing the group to follow where the redheaded Stark led. It was a complicated journey, as Sansa took them off the main path and through a small thicket, until they arrived at a shadowed clearing just next to the main road. Jaime instantly saw what the fuss was about. A sleek, expensive looking BMW with blackout windows had obviously skidded off the road due to the icy conditions, and the driver and passenger were now being helped out of the car by the Hound.

"What's going on?" Jaime asked Arya as he, Jon, and Robb approached the scene. The accident did not look too major - the only sign of damage was the skid marks and the dented front of the car - but a police officer always had to make sure.

At his question, Casterly's newest police officer smiled. "Minor accident," Arya said, pointing her finger at the car just as the bonnet of the BMW started smoking. "The car came off the road as it went around the bend, but both passenger and driver seem alright."

Just then, the Hound moved slightly to the left allowing Jaime to catch a glimpse of the occupants of the car for the first time. Although he did not recognise the driver - who was wearing a generic chauffeur's uniform - the passenger was unmistakable. Barristan Selmy was the current Minister for Justice and had long been a stalwart of party politics in the UK. Several years ago, it even seemed likely that he would end up as Prime Minister - which the Casterly press had spun as "local boy done good" - but his star had quickly fallen when he had been thrown out of the cabinet for being part of the old guard, and only once he had threatened to sue the government for ageism had he been allowed back.

"Larraq!" Barristan was saying to his driver. "What are we going to do about my belongings? It's all well enough calling the AA about the ministerial car, but we are going to have to get my bags to _The Winterfell_ somehow. They have my suit and shirt press for the ceremony this evening."

As Larraq looked confused and a little overwhelmed, the Hound intervened. "You are in luck. We've just come from the Winterfell, and as the weather seems to be worsening, we can help you lug your bags there if you want."

"That seems like a sensible plan," said the Minister for Justice as he looked around at the snow, now falling in a heavy sheet. "Larraq, once we have the bags we will come back for the car. Thank you for your assistance Mr..."

"Sergeant Sandor Clegane of the Casterly Constabulary," said the Hound, holding his hand out for Barristan Selmy to shake. "And this is my dog, Joff."

Although he was wearing a very expensive suit, Barristan smiled at the Hound and then leant down to stroke Joff, who momentarily seemed to forget that he was a psycho. "Aren't you a good boy?"

Thinking the offer to help was uncharacteristically helpful of the Hound (and strangely friendly of Joff), Jaime stepped forward to offer his assistance. "How many bags do you have? We can split them up between us."

Even though it turned out that Barristan Selmy had majorly overpacked, Jaime was only allocated one rather small washbag because of the whole _only-having-one-hand_ issue. The entire Constabulary fanned out based on how much the bag they were carrying weighed, meaning Jaime found himself walking alongside the Minister of Justice with Arya and Sansa, none of them having to heave a suitcase behind them, unlike some of their more unfortunate colleagues.

Unburdened by baggage, Jaime tried to make conversation with Barristan as they fell into line. It was a little difficult, mostly due to the worsening weather, as it felt as if all of the were now trapped in a Christmas snow globe. The only problem was, it wasn't very pretty. Only cold.

"How was your journey?"

At Jaime's question, Barristan let out a good-humoured chuckle, and then futilely brushed snow from his suit. "It was tough even before Larraq hit that ice patch just outside of Winter Town. We originally planned to be at _The Winterfell_ several hours ago, but the weather proved too dangerous. I am glad there were people here to rescue us."

"It's nothing; it was good of you to come in the first place," smiled Jaime, trying to make this out-of-place, smartly dressed, superstar of a man feel comfortable while lost in the snow with a gaggle of police officers. "You didn't have to come. I am sure you are very busy back in London."

"I am," confirmed Barristan, with a slightly pained weariness, "but I wouldn't have missed this for the world."

Jaime raised an intrigued eyebrow. He knew Barristan had lived in Casterly years ago - Jaime distinctly remembered him from his boyhood as a cool, tall, handsome teenager who had been a star of the local football team and beloved by all the girls - but had been convinced he had fled the small town at eighteen in search of bigger ambitions. He was one of the most powerful men in the country now, after all.

"Why?"

"I was friends with Ned, back in the day," said Barristan with a small smile. "I had to make sure his memory was honoured."

Sansa opened her mouth in surprise. "Really? You were friends?"

As Robb and Arya looked equally as shocked, Jaime surmised Barristan had not kept in contact. "Yes," confirmed Barristan. "Why the surprise?"

While Sansa and Robb exchanged a wary look, Arya had no qualms in stating the obvious, "because we are his children, and he's never mentioned you."

For a split second, Jaime thought that Barristan looked slightly wounded at Arya's admission, but then he quickly recovered himself. Skill of the politician, Jaime assumed. "You must be Robb, Sansa, and Arya, yes?" asked Barristan, pointing to each of them in turn. Arya looked supremely unimpressed at his guess, but Robb and Sansa seemed pleased. "The two of you look like your mother and Arya... I guess you look like your Aunt Lyanna."

"You know Lyanna too?" asked Sansa, her smile growing.

"Yes, but of the Stark siblings, I suppose I was better friends with Brandon," said Barristan, grinning at Sansa as the only source of warmth in the bitter weather, "but we all knew each other well. Ned was at the centre of a big group of friends; his siblings Lyanna and Benjen, Ned's best mate Howland Reed, and Lyanna's pals Wylla Armstrong and Ashara Dayne. As I was that little bit older, I used to hang around with Brandon, Catelyn, and Barbrey Dustin, but during the summer we all used to spend time at the Dayne's summer house in the woods outside Casterly; the Tower of Joy. Ashara's parents never minded, so it was a home away from home."

At Barristan's happy recollection of her parents' younger days, Sansa smiled. "It sounds like you used to have a wonderful time."

"We did," said Barristan, wistful at the remembrance. "Winter never came for the likes of us. Had one of us performed a dangerous game, the others cheered us on, and it is always summer in my memories. There, the boys are daring, the girls pretty, and the sun is always shining."

"If only the sun was shining for us now," grumbled the Hound, drawing level with the group as he heaved Barristan's biggest suitcase behind him. "I left Joff's winter jacket back at the hotel. He'll freeze if we stay out here much longer."

Having momentarily been distracted by Barristan's reminiscences, Jaime suddenly remember how the Casterly Constabulary were walking into an icy tundra. When they had left the hotel, Jaime had at least been able to see Winter Town in the distance. Now, there was nothing but snow.

Cold winter snow.

* * *

By the time the party arrived back at the hotel, _The Winterfell_ was in the midst of a blizzard. Although he was wearing a fairly warm coat and scarf, Jaime was absolutely frozen, meaning his teeth were chattering as he helped Barristan take his bags up to the Presidential Suite.

"Thank you for all your help," smiled Barristan to Jaime, Robb Stark, Robb Arryn, and the Hound once they had helped him settle into his room. "I will be a few minutes and then join you down in the bar. I am so looking forward to meeting old friends."

After they had said their goodbyes, the four men (and Joff) made their way down to the bar. They had already sent Jon and the others there to explain everything, so Jaime could only hope that they could bypass the smalltalk and get straight onto the drinking,

"Barristan seemed nice," said Robb Arryn absentmindedly as they headed down the stairs.

Robb Stark shrugged. "A bit put together, I thought. He says he has all these memories of my dad, my mum, Aunt Lyanna, Casterly, and yet no one has ever mentioned him. It all felt a bit fake to me."

"Yeah," agreed the Hound gruffly. "He has a politician's smile."

Although Jaime wanted to disagree - the Barristan Selmy he remembered for childhood had always been rather charming, after all - he never found the words to say, as before long they were back in the bar, choking on noise. Most of the survivors from the walk to Winter Town were there, covered in snow, as well as Lyanna, Catelyn, Howland Reed (who Jaime also recalled from years ago), and two people he assumed were Howland's children, Meera and Jojen. He did not have a moment to speak to any of them, however, as before he could say anything at all, Brienne was upon him.

"Jaime! You are back!" she cooed, looping her arm through his and pulling him close. "Oh, my love, you are freezing! I'm going to have to get you back to our room to warm you up!"

Given how over-the-top her welcome was, as Robb Stark walked past, he smirked at Jaime. "Remember what I said," he said smugly, before waltzing past to join Margaery in regaling Bronn about stories of Baby Alerie.

Trying to ignore Casterly's most irritating detective, Jaime turned to his wife and smiled at her gently. As things had been a little difficult between them, Jaime decided to go carefully, lest he unitentionally upset her. "In a minute. I would quite like a drink first."

"What do you want? Gin and Tonic? Half a lager? I'll go get it for you!" said Brienne chirpily, dropping her arm so she could squeeze his hand.

Although Jaime liked her enthusiasm, he could also see her ulterior motive, so attempted to keep her as distracted as possible from the thought of returning to their hotel room. "I'll have half a lager, please."

Smiling at the chance at being helpful, Brienne moved off in the direction of the bar. Jaime could not help but follow her with his eyes. His wench was so excited about having the opportunity to have his undivided attention for the whole weekend, yet Jaime kept denying her at every turn. Although it was done out of concern, he could not help but wonder if he was hurting her more in the long-term.

 _Is Robb right?_ he wondered. _Should I just have sex with her? I love her so much, and I don't want to hurt her. I want to make her happy, I want..._

His rumination on Brienne was eventually interrupted by Barristan entering the bar, his seismic presence felt at once. "Lyanna! Catelyn! Howland! It is so good to see you!" he cried the moment he got through the door, before launching a blizzard of air kisses, sweet platitudes, and firm handshakes at them. Given the way he commanded the room, Jaime had to conclude that Barristan was exceptional at the kissing babies routine.

"Barristan, I am so glad to see you have arrived safely," said Lyanna in her warm hotel manager voice. "I hope our receptionists have checked you in and you are satisfied with your suite?"

At her question, Barristan gave an over the top wave to signal everything was fine. "Perfect, Lyanna. Perfect. How is everyone?" he asked cheerfully, turning from the engaged looking Lyanna and Catelyn, to the more sombre Howland. "What are you all doing with your lives these days? It has been a long time since we saw each other."

Looking at each of them in turn, Jaime could tell that Lyanna and Catelyn were very willing to answer Barristan's questions, while Howland was not. "Lyanna runs _The Winterfell,_ of course," began Catelyn, signalling around the bar as if to show off its magnificent beauty. "After Ned passed, I was quite... _ill_ for a few years, but now I have thrown myself into my family life. My eldest, Robb, has just given me a grandchild, you know. Her name is Alerie, and she is as cute as a button."

"Oh, that is wonderful," smiled Barristan warmly. "You will have to show me a picture of her later. And what about you, Howland?"

Clearly having thought he had gotten away with not answering, Howland gave Barristan a tight response as he replied. "I moved away from Casterly nearly thirty years ago now and went with my wife and young children to a small village on the Welsh Marches. I didn't really want to stay, what with all the memories."

"I understand," replied Barristan, his voice taking on a sombre tone. "That was part of the reason I went to London as soon as I could. It was difficult to face everything that happened."

The small group all seemed to agree with a sad nod, before taking a simultaneous swig of their drinks. Sensing his words had brought a dark mood to the group, Barristan tried to bring the conversation onto a happier ground. "Are you in touch with the old crowd anymore? Benjen? Wylla? Barbrey?... _Ashara?"_

Lyanna and Catelyn shared an uneasy look at Barristan's question, but it was Howland that answered in his blunt, level tone. "Benjen now works up in Scotland as a ranger at a national park and he hasn't been able to get time off work. I'm not sure about Wylla..."

"She is a cleaner here, at the hotel," supplied Lyanna quickly. "She was in a bit of a trouble after she got divorced from her husband, so I offered her a role at the hotel. She has taken to it like a duck to water."

It was then Catelyn's turn to take over the narrative, although her expression was more bitter than Lyanna's. "Barbrey is still drinking her way through all the pubs in the south-west, but she will be here tonight, won't she Lyanna?"

Lyanna nodded in a kind of faux-enthusiasm; perhaps she did not want to upset her star guest. Given the rather scandalous story about Barbrey, Jaime thought Barristan would press on that point, but instead he changed tack. "And Ashara?"

As one, Lyanna, Catelyn, and Howland's expressions lost all joy. Barristan looked at them all searchingly, until Catelyn managed to find the words.

"We haven't seen her, not since... _what happened._ "

Intrigued by this story, Jaime leant in to listen more, but found himself cut off by Brienne, who reappeared quite suddenly with a lager for him. "There you go my love," she smiled, her cheeks flushed. "Drink up!"

Taking his beer from her, Jaime mumbled a thanks before turning back to look at Barristan, Lyanna, Catelyn, and Howland, desperate to uncover some mysterious Casterly gossip that he had not been privy to as a child. However, Brienne was not having any of that.

"You look so cold, sweetheart," purred Brienne, curling her arm around his waist and pulling him close. "I am going to get you back to our room and make sure you are all warmed up. Maybe we could have a bath for old times’ sake."

The Brienne he had first charmed would have never been so bold in talking about something so intimate in a public bar, but clearly Jaime had pushed her to take drastic measures. Feeling a little guilty, Jaime tried to distract her from his inadequacies so, looking down at his drink, he went for a mundane question. "Why is it in a plastic cup?" he asked confusedly, as Brienne stared at him with her big, bright eyes.

Watching him with a heated gaze, she bit her lip, teasing it between her teeth, daring him to take a bite. "I thought we could take our drinks upstairs. We have hours before we are needed for the prize giving... and you have a promise to keep."

In spite of Brienne's gleeful expression, Jaime's stomach lurched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I would love to hear what you think, so please consider leaving a comment or kudos! I LOVE feedback, and it definitely spurs me on to keep writing.


	7. Essential Oils

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne go back to their hotel room for some private time... again...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for coming back! This is a short(ish) chapter, but I hope you like it as it truly is the calm before the storm :)

Eventually, after Jaime had finished his drink, Brienne managed to coax him back upstairs to Room 69, ready to put her plan into action. In all the time she had known her husband, Brienne had realised that if plain old spelling out that she wanted to have sex didn't work, she was going to try her well-tested tenderness. Nothing would get Jaime to open up better than a cuddle and a few kisses... surely? And then if he wanted to fire up his motor after that, it was only to the good.

They walked all the way to their room together with her hand resting on his lower back. Jaime kept shooting her confused glances.

"What are you doing?" he asked, not looking her straight in the eye.

"Touching my husband," she purred. "It's allowed, isn't it?'

"Sometimes."

Brienne swallowed nervously. There was something strangely dismissive in that comment. Nevertheless, she tried to ignore it and focus on something positive.

"I am looking forward to the drinks reception tonight," Brienne said, rubbing what she hoped was a soothing circle on his back. "Are you?"

Jaime shrugged. "Yeah, I suppose. I think I am most interested in seeing Catelyn collect Ned's prize at the award ceremony though. He deserves it."

"Yes, he does," said Brienne mildly, already feeling the conversation tailing off with no way of preventing it from happening.

When they reached their room, Jaime fumbled around with the key for a few moments while Brienne stood next to him, her heart racing. For the first time since the beginning of their relationship, Brienne was nervous about being alone with her husband. In all the years they had been together, she had always felt immensely loved and appreciated whenever they went to bed, but now... something was clearly wrong.

 _I am going to make it right,_ Brienne told herself. _I am going to make it right._

Once they had slipped into the hotel room, Jaime kicked off his shoes, crossed the room, and sat on the bed, looking up at her with uncertain eyes. "What do you want me to do to you?" he asked quickly, as if this was a business transaction and not a discussion about sex. "What would make you feel good?"

To Brienne's horror, there was no excitement in Jaime's eyes at the prospect of sleeping with her, just a weary acceptance of duty. It was clearly a _chore_ to him. Brienne swallowed, attempting to beat down the lump in her throat. During their therapy sessions with Val, they had discovered that Jaime often sacrificed himself emotionally and remained silent as to his problems in order to keep her happy. Although he had been working on it, Brienne had never seen it play out so obviously before her eyes, with Jaime looking so obviously pained.

And it had never hurt Brienne so sharply before; that his kindnesses were motivated by the fact he was trying to hide that he could barely stomach getting in bed with her.

"My love," she said, taking off her shoes with great difficulty in an attempt to distract herself from the horrible theories swarming around her mind, "what's the matter?"

At her question, confusion flitted across Jaime's face. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Brienne began gently, waddling across the room to sit beside him on the bed, reaching out to take his hand in hers, "what is the matter? It is clear you don't want to be... _close_ like we normally are, so I just wondered why. You can talk to me, you know? Whatever it is. I want to hear it. I am your wife."

Jaime's mouth twisted in some strange emotion that almost appeared to be regret as he looked down at their joined hands, his thumb skirting along her knuckles. "I..." said Jaime, before stalling, "I..."

Brienne squeezed his hand tighter, attempting to reassure him. "Yes, darling? What is it?"

Although she had been expecting vulnerability, when Jaime looked back up at her his expression was strangely guarded. "It is just stressful at the moment with your pregnancy and everything..."

"Tell me about it, I'm the one carrying this baby around," Brienne teased, shuffling closer, resting her head on his shoulder, and wrapping her arms around him. "But it is not just me who matters, Jaime. If you are worried, _tell me._ You've got to remember we are in this together and a problem shared is a problem halved. So, what is worrying you? I don't like seeing you all stressed out about this. I am here to help you."

As she had her arms around him, Brienne could tell that Jaime was tense. In fact, it felt as if every muscle in his body was straining underneath her touch. She had hoped that by just holding him, Brienne would help Jaime relax, but instead his worries remained impenetrable and a horrible fear roiled in her stomach that it was her closeness that was upsetting him.

"It's nothing important," Jaimee claimed, curling in on himself beneath her hands.

At his defensive motion, Brienne lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him sceptically. "Jaime, I'm not stupid. I know you. In fact, I know you so well that I realise when something is wrong. And something is definitely wrong now. Do you remember when I wouldn't talk to you about Melara?"

The second the devil herself was named Jaime's eyes widened. Most of the time, he liked to pretend his erstwhile stalker did not exist. "Don't talk about Melara."

"I won't," Brienne promised him, using the opportunity of their closeness to peck him on the cheek. "It is just I hurt you when I was too scared to talk to you about my fears about _her_ , and you are worrying me by staying silent about whatever is troubling you now. So please, Jaime. Speak to me. I really want to know what is upsetting you."

When Jaime sighed, his shoulders falling, Brienne finally knew she had got through to him. She understood his body and every expression so well that she was certain that he was on the cusp of surrendering the truth to her. "It is just a lot, you know," Jaime mumbled, breaking eye contact once more to look down at their hands. "What with you being pregnant and me worrying about the birth I... I just don't want to burden you."

"Burden me!" declared Brienne ardently. "I want to help you relax, I... oh!"

Suddenly having an idea, Brienne let go of Jaime's hand and jumped to her feet (or stood up as quickly as she could while carrying her husband's spawn inside of her), then waddled over to the birthing bag.

"What are you doing, wench?" asked Jaime confusedly.

Brienne did not immediately answer him, as she was too busy rooting around in the birthing bag to find what she needed; her bottle of Rose Vanilla Massage Oil. Jaime looked at her confusedly.

"I thought you weren't sure about me massaging you during the birth?" said Jaime, tilting his head to survey his wife as she got back to her feet.

Grinning, Brienne could not help but bat back. "It is not _me_ that is going to get massaged, silly. It's you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you!" beamed Brienne triumphantly, sure that this plan would work. "So take your shirt off and I'll give you a relaxing massage, while you tell me what is going on."

Part of her had hoped that Jaime would be excited at the prospect of having her hands all over him, but he continued to appear reluctant. "That oil is for you, wench. I don't want you using it on me. What if we run out?"

"I'm not going to dunk a whole bottle of very expensive massage oil on your back, Jaime, no matter how much I love you," chided Brienne with a roll of the eyes. "I will only use a little bit. And, anyway, if it really comes to it, we could always buy more."

"But..."

Not wanting to argue about this anymore, Brienne marched forward and stood in front of him armed with her massage oil. "Let me help you. You are clearly stressed, so if you can't talk to me, let me do this for you. Please."

Thankfully, this time, Jaime put away his reluctance and reticence, and instead gave her a tentative smile. "Alright wench, you don't have to beg me to let you feel me up."

"I will not be _feeling you up,"_ Brienne insisted with a laugh. "I just want to relax you, and I think a massage will do just the job. So take off your shirt and lay down on the bed, face down."

Smirking, Jaime got to his feet. "Okay, my lady. No need to get all domineering."

"Who are you kidding," snorted Brienne, "the brave and noble Sergeant Lannister-Tarth _loves_ it when I get all domineering."

Shaking his head in a kind of weary amusement, Jaime took his shirt and watch off before heading towards the bed, the glint in his eye offering an invitation for her to come closer.

"One second!" cried Brienne, moving forward.

"What?"

With gentle hands, Brienne helped Jaime take off his prosthetic hand before putting it on the bedside cabinet. "If we are going to do this, we are going to do it properly."

A pretty flush coming across his cheeks, Jaime laid face-down on the bed, his arms splayed out either side of his head. The sight was almost too much for Brienne; the line that ran from between his strong, firm shoulders all the way down to his hips, bisecting his back, _did_ things to her, and she could not wait to touch him. _Everywhere._ Once he was comfortable, Brienne took her chance. Straddling his hips, Brienne hovered above him, opening the bottle of oil in order to squirt some onto his back.

"Hey, that's cold," complained Jaime teasingly. "Wouldn't a proper masseuse rub it on her hands first to get it warm?"

Brienne tutted. "If you want a massage from a professional, book one. Otherwise, you are going to have to settle for me rubbing you down with cold oil. On the plus side, it smells of Rose Vanilla... whatever that is."

"Perfect," purred Jaime, just as Brienne put her hands on him for the first time, breathing deeply as her fingers ran down his back.

Working careful, Brienne began on Jaime's shoulders. Even without touching them, she could tell they were as hard as rocks, so she worked slowly, rubbing little circles into his golden skin with her thumbs while squeezing with her fingers.

"I'm not doing that too hard, am I?" she asked breathlessly, as she felt him shudder beneath her touch. "Your shoulders just feel so tight."

"No that's... _ahh..._ good wench. Keep doing that."

So she did. After she felt the vast expanse of muscle that made up Jaime's shoulders loosen, the knots slowly unwinding, Brienne began a journey down his back, tracing each of his vertebrae as she went. Squeezing out some more oil, she took particular pleasure in stroking his sides, which made him laugh.

"Don't, wench! That tickles!"

However, Brienne did not stop as she loved to hear Jaime laugh and he had been doing so little of it recently. Eventually, however, she was forced to move on from his side under threat of being tickled herself, so she made the journey from his lower back up to his arms. Although his stump looked and little red and sore, Brienne did not touch it immediately, but kept working comforting circles into his skin with her thumbs.

"Can you roll over now please?" she asked, getting fully up onto her knees. "I want to do your front."

Jaime lifted his head off the pillow, surprised. "A professional masseuse would never do my front, would she?" he asked, unsure.

"Perhaps not," replied Brienne, her voice like silk, "but your wife would."

At that slightly risqué suggestion, Jaime froze, and Brienne could feel him becoming tense once more between her legs. However, he eventually decided that he would take his wife up on her offer and rolled over so he could look her in the eye. Brienne could not help but sigh very loudly as she rubbed more oil on to her hands and then started working on his stump, wanting to ease the redness.

"God, Jaime, it is so unfair," Brienne huffed when she arrived at his torso, swirling oil through his golden chest hair.

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "What's unfair?"

"That you are still so sexy while I look like a whale," Brienne grinned. "This whole pregnancy thing does not allow an equal distribution of labour."

She expected him to laugh, but instead Jaime looked a little vexed. In order to challenge her, he rolled his eyes and tutted at the same time. "Stop it. You know you are still hot."

"You think I am?" asked Brienne, feeling the fearful weight that had been pressing down on her heart for weeks lifting slightly.

"Of course I do," replied Jaime, smiling. "I think you are goddamn beautiful; you know that."

Although her whole person now seemed to be glowing with heat and light, the weeks of worry and concern about what her husband thought about her swollen body meant that Brienne could not help but niggle at Jaime further. "Then what is this all about? Why don't you want to have sex with me? Why don't you want to talk to me? I can help you, Jaime. I know I can. I _want_ to help you."

Perhaps it was the imploring tone, or even that she had messaged him into submission, but it soon seemed that Jaime was on the verge of giving Brienne what she wanted. "It is not that I am not attracted to you, or that I don't want to talk, it is just that I don't want to _scare_ you... not when you are the one who will be going through a traumatic process to bring our baby into the world."

"Scare me?" repeated Brienne, unsure of what he was getting at. "Why would you scare me?"

At her question, Jaime sighed - bone-deep, weary - and looked at her with those transcendent green eyes of his. "It is just that, when I was very young, I saw Tyrion..."

" _La de da de_... oh my goodness I am terribly sorry! I did not know you were in here!"

Snapping her head around, Brienne saw a woman dressed in a cleaner's uniform - wearing a name badge which read _Wylla -_ standing by the newly unlocked hotel room door. In one hand, she held a skeleton key, while in the other she had her phone through which she was listening to music. Her face was a picture of absolute horror.

"I'm interrupting," she declared, covering her face with her free hand. "I'll come back later."

Brienne was just about to thank her, when Jaime piped up.

"No! Don't go! Not on our account. We weren't planning on staying in our hotel room all afternoon, so if you just give us five minutes..."

As Brienne had actually been planning to rub her husband down, get him to admit his worries, and then suck him off and fuck his brains out, she had not been intending to go anywhere at all for the rest of the afternoon. Her plan had been bed, nakedness, and Jaime. Consequently, she was too shocked to object when Jaime gently rolled her off him and then made his way across the room too talk to the cleaner.

"Oh gosh, I am so sorry," said the woman, peaking up at Jaime with big innocent eyes. Wanting to soothe her, he waved at her in a conciliatory way.

"It's nothing. You were only doing what you are paid to do. We should have thought about a _Do Not Disturb_ sign or something. It has probably made your whole job a lot harder."

Frustrated that Jaime was now seemingly caring more about the needs of this random cleaner than his own wife, Brienne slumped back on to bed, well and truly defeated. Sighing, she had little other choice than to listen to her husband and Wylla's conversation, while her chest ached at the prospect of never having _her_ Jaime back again.

"No, of course it hasn't," the cleaning lady said. "There's a lot to do before the Award Ceremony tonight, I'd grant you; on top of the normal cleaning, we have to make sure everything is ready on the stage as well double checking entry into the Winterfell crypts is blocked."

"The crypts?" asked Jaime, a note of intrigue in his voice. "What is so important about the crypts being blocked off?"

Wylla let out an over-dramatic sigh. "Because Barristan bloody Selmy has made an appearance and therefore security needs to be tight, no one is allowed into the crypts. They contain underground passages that lead out into Winter Town, that party-crashers or anybody else could use to get into _The Winterfell._ Consequently, staff are pressed today to make sure everything is running smoothly."

"I hope Lyanna is treating you well?" joked Jaime, jovial with the cleaner when he should be in bed with his wife.

Amused, Wylla laughed. "Oh, she's one of my oldest friends, but I am not afraid to say she can be a bit of a ball-breaker when she wants to be."

"I suppose she has to when running such a big hotel," mused Jaime.

"Quite," replied Wylla, her keys jangling where they were hanging from her hand. "Well, I won't keep you. I've got lots to do. For the future, just be aware it is best to bung a _Do Not Disturb_ sign on the door."

"Will do," smiled Jaime. "Thanks for your help."

"No problem. Have a good afternoon, sir."

Clearly done distracting Brienne's husband, Wylla turned on her heel and exited the room, taking her keys and phone with her. Once the door was firmly shut behind her, Brienne sat up, fixing Jaime with a searching gaze.

"You were going to tell me something about Tyrion," she said, trying to make sure she focussed on his face and was not distracted by his body; beautiful, golden, and glistening with oil.

At her reminder about the story that had broken off mid-telling, it was as if Jaime was a robot being powered up for the first time. Where he had appeared relaxed and languid only seconds before, the moment his brother was mentioned, Jaime tensed up once again. "I told you, I didn't want to scare you..."

"You _won't_ scare me," insisted Brienne, trying (and failing) to keep her annoyance out of her voice, "so, for god's sake, can you tell me what is going on?"

In the time that it took her to blink, Brienne knew she had taken the entirely wrong approach to get Jaime to open up. Hurt by her cross tone, his mouth became a thin line and he stared at her in a sullen and guarded way.

"If I'm honest, I don't really want to talk right now."

"But..."

"But _nothing_ ," he snapped. "I'm sticky and covered in oil and we've got Ned's Award Ceremony soon. I need a shower."

"But what about me trying to relax you?" whined Brienne, sounding like a petulant child.

Jaime sighed. It was one of irritation, not sadness. "We can finish later just... not now."

Without another word, Jaime turned on his heel and entered the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. As the noise reverberated around the room, Brienne wanted nothing more than to shout at him through the wall and ask him what his goddamn problem was. Instead, she just stayed on the bed, wondering if he was lying to her about his belief that she was still hot. She was just finding the words to convince herself that Jaime remained super attractive to him, when Brienne noticed something that made her stop her persuasion campaign in its tracks.

Jaime had found the _Do Not Disturb_ sign and hung it over the bathroom door handle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! As ever, I would love to hear what you think of this chapter, story, or universe in a lovely comment or kudos. Each and every one make my heart sing.
> 
> Next chapter... At the drinks reception before Ned Stark's Award Ceremony, Brienne is not happy with her husband...


	8. Brienne's Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The drinks reception before Ned's Award Ceremony begins, and Brienne gets talking to some very interesting people...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry this has been a while, but I hope you enjoy it. As ever, I love to hear what you think in the form of comments and kudos!

Brienne had chosen the dress she was going to wear to the drinks reception very carefully. It was a floor length gown in a light blue with Diamante accents and a slit up the side to show off her legs. Before everything had gone wrong, she had thought to wear it for Jaime. In her mind in the weeks leading up to the event, Brienne had been planning to persuade him into an elaborate roleplay where she was an ambassador's wife and he a Russian spy, but it had all come to naught in the face of his general weirdness. Consequently, when they reached the bar that was immediately adjacent to the Great Hall - him in his smart suit, her in her dress - Brienne let go of his arm.

"Do you want a drink?" asked Jaime stiffly.

"Orange juice," Brienne replied, without any ornamentation.

His mouth a sullen line, Jaime went to order the orange juice and a beer for himself, while Brienne stood silently by his side. It was a continuation of how it had been between them ever since Jaime had put up the _Do Not Disturb_ sign, so Brienne was in no mood to change it.

"There you go," said Jaime once her drink had arrived, passing it to her. "Wench, I..."

She did not give him a chance to speak, however. "I'm going to find Margaery," Brienne declared. "At least she wants to talk to me."

Jaime rolled his eyes. "Brienne, it's not that I..."

Brienne just did not want to hear it. Turning her back on him, she began to determinedly waddle across the room, feeling his burning gaze on her back.

 _Stupid man,_ she thought as she looked around for Margaery. _Stupid, insufferable man. Hasn't he learnt anything after what happened with Melara?_

Standing in the middle of the room armed with her anger at Jaime and her orange juice, Brienne struggled to locate Margaery. In truth, she did not even know whether she and Robb had come down their room yet. Brienne would not have been surprised if they hadn't; Margaery was always committed to looking her absolute best and there was still some time before the Awards Ceremony started in the Great Hall. Even so, it left Brienne with no immediate ally in sight, and prey to her own weakness; if she did not have a distraction, she would undoubtedly talk to Jaime again.

 _Stupid, stupid,_ she told herself. _Why do you let him do this to you? He should be feeling guilty, not you!_

Luckily, however, Lyanna Stark decided to appear at that exact moment, preventing Brienne from caving and returning to her husband.

"Are you alright there, Brienne?" smiled Lyanna. "Why don't you come and sit over here with me? It must be a bit uncomfortable for you in those high heels."

Brienne had picked these high heels specially for Jaime. She knew that he did not mind her being taller than him - in fact, he often quite enjoyed it - so she they had been a fundamental part of getting into her roleplay character for him. However, given his mood, Brienne was now having to wear uncomfortable shoes and not having sex with her husband. It was very frustrating. Consequently, Brienne allowed Lyanna to lead her over to a nearby table and sit her down.

"Sorry, this pregnancy thing is just exhausting," said Brienne, when Lyanna sat down next to her. "It is not fun at all."

"It does have its good bits, though, doesn't it?" asked Lyanna, almost wistfully. "The fact you are making a new life with the man you love. There's something beautiful about that."

Brienne caught sight of Jaime out of the corner of her eye. He was now propped up at the bar, alone, with his drink. "I suppose, but I sometimes can't help but re-evaluate my life choices."

Lyanna laughed. "Oh, don't worry, I do that on the daily too. This place is a lot to run, and sometimes I wonder if I would be happier as a 1950s housewife with gaggle of kids and a husband I only see once a week."

"Would you?" asked Brienne, raising an eyebrow at her.

Smiling, Lyanna shook her head, as if she found the suggestion preposterous. "No. Maybe I had a chance for that once, but not now. I have a business to run and people who rely on me. That's good enough for me."

"I can see how that would bring you a lot of happiness," said Brienne, taking a sip of her orange juice. "Being the Chief Inspector, I find a lot of joy in having people to help and a team to manage. Bringing people pleasure in running a hotel must be very similar."

"Don't get me wrong, I think I would have liked to be a mother," said Lyanna, her eyes drifting over to the bar where her nephew Robb and Jon Snow were chatting, "but it did not happen for me, so I am making my own life. Motherhood is not the only way a woman can have a family."

"Indeed," replied Brienne, raising her glass for Lyanna to chink. "Even now, before I have this baby, I feel like I have a close family. I have my dad, who has always done his best. And there's Jaime, of course. Even though he frustrates me no end sometimes, I still love him dearly, and wouldn't change him for the world."

"Is he the only one you've ever considered marrying?" asked Lyanna, as if she was genuinely trying to map out Brienne's heart. "Jaime, I mean. Or were there others before, with whom it could have worked out but just... didn't."

At Lyanna's question, Brienne briefly thought of Hyle. Before she moved to Casterly, they had had a sort of relationship. It had only been a flickering candle in comparison to the sun of feelings she felt for Jaime, of course, but it had been something.

"No, never," admitted Brienne, her resolve to be angry at Jaime softening when she thought of how much joy he had brought to her life. "It was only ever him."

Lyanna nodded, a strange sadness in her eyes. "I feared that was the case. There was only ever one man for me, too. It never worked out for us, so we didn't get our happy ending like you and Jaime. Yet, all these years later, Rhaegar was the only one I ever considered marrying."

Sensing that they were journeying into a really sensitive part of Lyanna's heart, Brienne changed direction slightly. "It is strange, isn't it, how some people are just meant for each other? In campaigning for Ned to get this award, Robb was telling me how ill Catelyn got after Ned died. It was almost as if she was heartsick for him."

"They were a good pair," agreed Lyanna, nodding. "I first met Cat when she was going out with my older brother Brandon and Ned just had a hopeless, _hopeless_ crush on her. But even then I knew it would work out in the long run. Brandon was all about fast living and Cat just couldn't keep up. Her and Ned were much better suited."

"Where is Brandon?" asked Brienne, looking around, almost as if she expected to spot the other Stark brother in the crowd. "Surely he has come to see his brother get posthumously honoured."

Brienne knew she had said something wrong the instant she saw the light dissipate from Lyanna's eyes. "No, he's not here. He died young, you see."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," said Brienne, reaching out and grasping Lyanna's wrist. "I didn't know. How did it happen?"

"A car crash," admitted Lyanna, her expression turning distant. "He and Arthur Dayne went driving one night along Visenya's Hill. I imagine they were both drunk, as the car rolled off the road and they were both killed instantly. I had just come back from London after quitting University; I had only been home a few days, and then _that_ happened. He was only twenty-three."

Squeezing her wrist tighter, Brienne tried to make Lyanna feel better. "I am so sorry. I lost my brother Galladon when I was young too. I know how awful it is."

"I try not to dwell on it," said Lyanna, her voice turning thin in her effort to keep her tears at bay. "There are so many happy things in my life; although I have lost Brandon and Ned, I still have my brother Benjen, even though he spends most of his time north of Hadrian's Wall solving crimes for the Glasgow Police Service. And I have the lovely nieces and nephews that Ned and Cat gave me. And this hotel. There are so many things to be thankful for, but sometimes it is difficult to remember."

Brienne found herself nodding along, even though her own life had not been marked with nearly as much tragedy as Lyanna's. "I want to honour Galladon when my baby is born, somehow. If it is a boy, I'm thinking I could give his name as a middle name or something."

"It is always important that your children remember that the world did not start with them," said Lyanna cryptically, before her eyes drifted back over to Robb and Jon. "Always important."

There were a few moments of silence where the two women sat beside each other and pondered what they had just discussed. To what extent could one truly live free of the past? How did motherhood and having a family shape you? And whether you could build your own happiness. Clearly not wanting to stay philosophical forever, Lyanna turned to Brienne, a smile on your face.

"Are you looking forward to the baby arriving?" she asked, picking a lighter topic.

"Oh yes," smiled Brienne, relieved. "I've been waiting so long to meet him that I can't wait to hold him. And Jaime too. He will make such a great father."

Lyanna nodded at that statement, her expression once more growing wistful. "Yes, there is nothing like holding your newborn baby in your arms."

Brienne was just about to begin describing all the steps that she and Jaime had made to get prepared - the nursery, the birthing classes, the long discussions over the right name - but then a man in a Winterfell Hotel uniform came and tapped Lyanna on the shoulder.

"Ms Stark, there is some sort of problem with Mr Selmy's microphone. Do you mind coming to reassure him that he will definitely be heard from the back?"

Rolling her eyes good humouredly, Lyanna got to her feet. "Oh, Barristan was always so dramatic. I'll come with you, Jory, and see if I can sort it all out."

"Thanks."

Once Jory had disappeared back towards the Great Hall, Lyanna turned to Brienne. "It was lovely to speak to you, Brienne, but I do have to go and sort Barristan out. I want my brother's ceremony to run smoothly... for his memory."

"Of course, don't let me keep you," smiled Brienne. "I am happy here with my orange juice, and you have important things to do."

After the two women exchanged some final goodbyes, Lyanna headed off towards the Great Hall, following the path that Jory had just taken. As she moved away, Brienne could not help but watch her. Strong and authoritative, Lyanna had a strange sadness behind her eyes that Brienne could sense but not understand. It intrigued her.

 _Perhaps it is to do with Brandon,_ Brienne thought, _or even the love that got away._

_I think I would have always been sad if I had messed it up permanently with Jaime, after all._

Brienne was just mulling on that prospect, and thinking about how she needed to make it alright with her husband, when a slurred voice interrupted her train of thoughts.

"You didn't let _her_ fill your head with her sad stories of the past did you, Miss Policeman?"

Brienne turned around and found a woman she did not recognise propped up on the table behind her. Like Lyanna, she was tall with iron-grey hair who Brienne thought must have once been beautiful. Whereas Lyanna had held onto her charms, it was clear this woman had drunk them away. In her hand was a glass of what smelt like neat vodka, and she had the distinct air of someone who did not know how to say no. She topped off the look by wearing a long black dress that was slightly too big for her, considering she was near skeletal.

Not knowing quite how to receive this woman, Brienne gave her an uneasy smile. "We were just talking, that's all."

"Aye, and you can't talk five minutes to Lyanna without her bringing up all the pain she's ever been through," said the woman bitterly, before taking another sip of vodka. "Poor Brandon. Poor Lyanna. Poor Dead Ned."

As if to make a point the woman then took a huge gulp off vodka, which almost made Brienne reach up and confiscate her glass. "It _is_ very sad," replied Brienne coolly, taking a sip of her orange juice. "Lyanna has built all this up in spite of the bad things that have happened to her."

"Oh yes, and having a massive hotel that was your ancestral home and being a multi-millionaire when your family were already rolling in it is _such_ an achievement."

Not wanting to get into an argument with this impossibly rude woman, Brienne took a deep breath and then used her police officer voice. "It is when you lost your brother young, and your other was _murdered."_

However, the woman did not seem to agree with that assessment and let out a slurring spurt of laughter. "You speak as if Brandon was a saint. He was no saint! He slept with everything that moved, everyone who would have him, and lied about it too. I should know. So to turn him into some sort of perfect guy who everyone was crying over when he died... it's not true. Cat wasn't crying, I wasn't crying, and Lyanna had bigger fish to fry. It seems to me that, in the end, Brandon just got what was coming to him."

"That is not a very nice thing to say," replied Brienne, horrified that someone could be so mean.

The woman rolled her eyes and made a scoffing sound. "Who would want to be _nice_ when you could be honest? All of them have just turned up here full of lies and sweet platitudes about how we were all such good friends in the past, and how we all should have tried to keep in touch better. All of them are such liars; Howland, Cat, Lyanna, Wylla, and even Prime Minister Barristan. They've all got secrets coming out of their ears. At least I don't pretend. At I least I know who I am!"

"And who are you?" asked Brienne. "I don't think we've had the pleasure of being formerly introduced."

"Barbrey Dustin," the woman replied at once, extending her hand for Brienne to shake. "I am Brandon's old..."

"Woah there, Barbrey, are you okay?"

Brienne never did find out how exactly Barbrey and Brandon knew each other as, at that moment, the former nearly fell off her chair and was only saved by Theon Greyjoy, who was walking past.

"I'm fine," she grumbled, as Theon helped her to her feet.

"You don't look fine," he said, dusting a piece of lint off her shoulder when she got up to her full height. "Maybe you should go and get some water?"

"I don't want water."

"Then maybe you should go and sit in your seat ready for the Award Ceremony? I could help you there, if you want; although we are not letting anybody in at the moment, I am sure Lyanna could make an exception for an old friend."

Barbrey's eyes lit up at the possibility of breaking the rules and getting onto her seat in the Great Hall first. "Well... if you are sure. I _have_ known Lyanna a long time."

"Come on then," said Theon, extending his hand to her. "I'll take you in."

As Barbrey let herself be led away, Brienne shot a thankful glance at Theon. She did not want to be stuck with Barbrey and her bitterness all night, especially when she had her own problems to think about.

_Jaime._

Even though she was annoyed at him, Brienne could not help but search him out with her eyes. She did not spot him immediately; she saw Shae and Sansa chatting animatedly to each other, Howland and Lyanna muttering darkly to each other in a corner, and Gendry and Arya smooching by the jukebox, before she noticed him. Jaime was propped up at the bar talking to two people Brienne did not recognise. The first was a young man with electric blue hair, while the other was an older woman who was an equally unnatural looking platinum blonde. Jaime was shifting his eyes from one to the other a little suspiciously, so, for a brief moment, Brienne considered going to save him. However, she never got the chance, as Theon returned.

"Sorry about that. Barbrey can be a bit much. I've been given express orders by Lyanna not to let her upset any of the guests."

"That's alright," said Brienne, smiling. "She was just talking about the past... about stuff I did not really know about and have no business knowing about, really."

Theon let out a huff of laughter. "Well, I think that is part and parcel of staying at the Winterfell Hotel. You know things you really wish you didn't."

"Like what?" inquired Brienne teasingly.

"Well, since coming here as Lyanna's odd jobs man, I've seen her bed hair more times than I would have wished to."

"How long have you been working here?" asked Brienne, determined to keep herself at a distance from Jaime, who now seemed to be chatting to the unfamiliar blonde woman alone. Luckily, Theon was in the mood to talk.

"Oh, on-and-off since last summer. Robb knew I was looking for work and was also aware that Lyanna needed help here revamping the place. It was a match made in heaven."

"Serendipitous," smiled Brienne, taking a sip of her orange juice. "Was there much work to do?"

"Oh, lots," explained Theon. "Obvious Lyanna got the architects and builders in for the big projects - redesigning the Broken Tower, creating the correct ambience in the Hot Springs, bringing that authentic feel to the restaurants - but there was lots she needed me for. I spent my days down in the crypts, cleaning them out. It took weeks."

Brienne remembered the cleaning lady Wylla mentioning them earlier, but she had not imagined them to be so vast. "They are big, are they?"

"Huge," conceded Theon. "Lyanna's not even quite sure what her ancestors built them for. There are so many levels, and the bottom ones are entirely blocked off. The upper levels are easily traversable, though. They lead out into Winter Town. Although she has no idea about the lower levels, for the upper ones, she believes her ancestors used them as a means of escape in times of war."

"But you've got them blocked off this evening, though?" asked Brienne, putting her police officer hat on. She remembered what Wylla had said. "There are high profile guests here."

Theon nodded. "Of course. We've had to be very careful considering Barristan's presence."

Brienne was just about to ask more questions about the exact mechanics of clearing the tunnels out, when a loud bell rung out, followed by an ever louder voice. It was Jory, who Lyanna had set guarding the entrance to the main room in which the ceremony was about to be held.

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" he called, causing the whole room to hush into silence. "The Ceremony is going to start in fifteen minutes. You are now allowed to take your seats. Drinks are allowed in the Great Hall, but no food please."

"That's my call," smiled Theon. "I've got to go and help people to their seats."

"Of course. Thanks for speaking to me. I'll see you later."

"Yes, definitely."

As Theon was obviously busy, he dashed off towards the Great Hall, leaving Brienne alone with her orange juice. In no hurry herself, Brienne took her time in drinking the last few dregs; she did not think there was any need to rush herself, especially being pregnant. However, her sedentary position meant she was confronted by one particular person she was definitely not ready to speak to.

"Wench."

Looking up, she found herself gazing into Jaime's pretty green eyes. Brienne knew she should be annoyed, but she was momentarily taken aback by their beauty.

"What do you want?" she snapped, folding her arms across her chest.

A twist of regret crossed his features. "I've come to ask if my wife wants to take her seat with me."

Brienne dropped her eyes back to her near empty orange juice. "I'm finishing my drink. Why don't you go and sit down, and I'll come find you in a minute?" Knowing what mood he was in, Brienne was expecting Jaime to nod and leave her alone. It was therefore a surprise when he hooked his fingers under her chin and got her to look back up at him once more.

"I'm sorry I've been a dick," he sighed, looking immensely guilty. "I know you were trying to do something nice for me back in the hotel room, and I was just rude and mean, so I'm sorry. I'm just a little overwhelmed at the moment."

Even though Brienne had been quite committed to being angry with him, she could never resist contrite Jaime, so she reached up and interlocked her fingers with his. "You can talk to me about it, you know? I am your wife, even though I am pregnant. I don't like seeing you like this."

"I know," Jaime said. "And I _do_ want to talk to you about it, I honestly do. I just think you should know it might be a little upsetting to you, that's all."

It felt as if a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Ever since they had gone to couple's counselling with Val, they had been so much better at communicating with each other. Given Jaime's weird behaviour in the last few months, Brienne had been scared that he had not learnt the importance of talking to each other in the way she had.

"Upset me," Brienne commanded. "When we get back to the hotel room, you can upset me all you want and then we'll sort it out together, because that is what we should do. We are husband and wife, Jaime; a team. So, please. Talk to me."

He looked so beautiful in that moment that Brienne could not help getting to her feet (with some difficulty) and cupping his face with her hand. He rested his fingers on hers a moment later. "Okay, wench. When we get back to the room, I'll tell you everything."

At his promise, Brienne could not help but smile and then give him a quick kiss. Jaime bloomed at the gesture, as she linked his arm with hers.

"Come on then, Sergeant Lannister-Tarth," she grinned. "Take me to my seat."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I am super interested in hearing what you think of the slowly unfurling mystery (and Jaime/Brienne's marital problems), so please do not be afraid to leave a comment!


	9. Jaime's Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The drinks reception before Ned's Award Ceremony begins, and Jaime gets talking to some very interesting people...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for coming back for this story! I hope you enjoy this chapter; I am having great fun building up the mystery!

Jaime had chosen the suit he was going to wear to the drinks reception very carefully. It was a dark blue pinstripe, paired with a crisp white shirt, gold cufflinks, and a pair of brown brogues. He had thought to wear it for Brienne. In his mind, in the weeks leading up to the event, Jaime had imagined that she would see him in the suit and spend all night gazing at him hungrily like she used to, but it had all come to naught in the face of the general weirdness. Consequently, when they reached the bar that was immediately adjacent to the Great Hall in which the Award Ceremony was to be held in, Brienne let go of his arm.

"Do you want a drink?" Jaime asked Brienne when they finally reached the bar, wanting to placate her.

As if to remind him how annoyed she was with him, Brienne did not make eye contact and then said stiffly, "orange juice". She didn't even bother with a _please._

 _Oh god I've fucked up,_ Jaime thought. _If Brienne is not minding her Ps & Qs, I've really, really fucked up._

It wasn't that he wanted to upset his wife, it was just that he could not help himself when the alternative was making her even more anxious than she already was about the upcoming birth. Therefore, even though he desperately wished he could smooth things over, as he could not explain what was wrong, he was forced to stay trapped with Brienne in an uncomfortable, tense silence as they waited for their drinks.

It was only broken when the barman arrived with their beverages. "There you go," said Jaime, taking the orange juice from the barman and depositing it in front of his wife. "Wench, I..."

She gazed at him with ice cold blue eyes and it silenced him at once. "I'm going to find Margaery. At least she wants to talk to me."

He could not help but roll his eyes. "Brienne, it's not that I..."

Brienne did not give him time to explain, however, as she went waddling off across the room, determinedly looking for Margaery. Knowing that chasing her would do nothing but succeed in angering her further, Jaime slumped down on the nearest barstool and started to drink his beer.

_God, how do I make this right?_

As Jaime devoted himself to downing his beer, he kept catching sight of Brienne out of the corner of his eye. She was sitting quite stiffly at a table on the other side of the room, chatting to Lyanna. Paying him no attention at all, Brienne was looking at Lyanna with concern in her eyes; perhaps it was her naturally caring side, or maybe that she just wanted to convey to her stupid husband how very upset she was in ignoring him. Taking one more swig of beer for luck, Jaime was about to try and work up the courage to go and sort things out with Brienne, when a man sat down on the stool next to him, distracting his attention from his wife.

"You are Jaime Lannister, aren't you?"

Jaime looked up to discover the excited voice matched its owner. The occupant of the stool beside him was a young man, possibly in his late twenties. While he had a rather electric smile, the most distinguishing looking feature was his hair, which was dyed a bright blue. Jaime was almost taken aback by his appearance, just as much as he was shocked by the fact that this mysterious man knew who he was.

"Jaime Lannister- _Tarth,_ yes," corrected Jaime, taking another sip of beer. "How can I help you?"

At the confirmation the man extended his hand for Jaime to shake. "My name is Griff Young, and I was hoping I would have the chance to meet you."

Not having much choice but to shake his hand, Jaime nevertheless felt uneasy. "Really? How do you know me?"

"You are _famous_ ," said Griff excitedly, wiping his palm on his trousers the second Jaime let go of his hand. "Everyone has heard about how you took down your father when he was terrorising Casterly, and how you crushed your psycho stalker with a painting. Local legend."

Given how enthusiastic Griff was being, Jaime tried to be conciliatory, even though he felt awkward on the inside. Even after all these years, he still felt conflicted about the way he had been forced to deal with his father and his sister, and Melara... well, he didn't want to talk about _her_. Trying to hide his unease, Jaime attempted to smile, but he was sure it came out as a grimace. "That was mostly my wife, Brienne. She's the one who brought them down really, the top cop. She's never been afraid to kick the shit out of people who deserve it."

Jaime glanced over at Brienne, only to spot that she was still talking to Lyanna, pretending he did not exist. He forced himself to look back at Griff.

"Oh, you are doing yourself down, surely," smiled Griff, propping himself up on the bar. "I mean... you were the only police officer in the whole country who got even close to bringing down Aerys Targaryen."

Jaime almost knocked over his beer with his prosthetic hand.

 _Aerys Targaryen._ He had not thought he would hear that name mentioned so casually ever again. Aerys had been a criminal gangster whose reign of terror had lasted years; he had murdered, cheated, and stolen his way to becoming one of the richest criminals in the UK, so the police service had done their utmost to bring him down. Jaime had been chosen for the task of infiltrating his organisation for his easy smile and good looks; his superiors had felt that he would have a simpler time getting Aerys' wife, Rhaella, to trust him.

 _Yet it all went wrong,_ thought Jaime, as an almost overwhelming black fog started to converge in front of his eyes. _Rhaella died and I lost my hand and Aerys got away with it..._

Even now, Jaime could sometimes see the saw that Aerys' man had used to cut off his hand, the blood and the pain and the screams. Sometimes he heard the scream, and it was not as if it was even him screaming anymore... like it had happened to someone else... not him... not him...

 _I want Brienne,_ Jaime suddenly thought, glancing over at his wife once more in order to remind himself that there were still good things in the world. She was still talking to Lyanna, but part of him thought to walk over and interrupt, to say something to her that would make everything alright again...

"Obviously, Aerys is all over the news now he's dead and all," said Griff, his words pulling Jaime back towards the conversation at hand, "but you must have known what he was like in life! Tell me; was he just like the legend says?"

Jaime knew that Aerys _was_ in the news a lot at the moment, that much was true. The old gangster had died leaving all his money to his biological grandson by his eldest, Rhaegar, rather than his only living child Daenerys. The government were contesting the will, so it had become quite a high profile case; it meant that every time Aerys' lawyer, Willem Darry, was on TV being interview, Brienne had swiftly turned it over so not as to upset her husband.

 _She's sweet that way,_ he thought.

As Griff was looking at Jaime expectantly for an answer, he tried to find one. "Aerys was just as you would imagine him to be; a vicious, cruel, bastard. He took pleasure in abusing his wife and a kind of psychopathic joy in toying with people who happened to be in his power. I lost my hand for it, so I don't have anything nice to say about him."

At Jaime's forthright tone, Griff's smile dimmed a little. "Oh, I didn't mean to say..."

"Then what did you mean?" Jaime shot back, before taking a sip of beer to steel himself.

"Only that Aerys has been all over the news recently, what with them trying to find his biological grandson," said Griff, his tone growing more conciliatory. "It's just... seeing as you worked on his case so long... I wondered if you knew anything."

Jaime narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "About what?"

"About Aerys' grandson," said Griff, leaning closer as if this was a conspiracy. "You had to get close to Rhaella during your undercover work, didn't you? Surely, she told you all about her family... her two dead sons, her daughter... her only living grandchild."

There was something in Griff's eyes - greedy and hungry - that repelled Jaime and made him decide that, even if he did know anything about Aerys' mysterious grandson, he wouldn't tell this Griff Young. Consequently, Jaime took another casual sip of his beer.

"Sorry. I don't know anything."

"But..."

"Young man," came a voice, smooth like silk. "Take it from a journalist. If you want to interrogate someone about their worst memories, at least do it with a smile. Let them know you are an ally. Your approach is just putting Sergeant Lannister-Tarth here off."

At the sound, both Griff and Jaime turned to see the woman who had just appeared at the bar. Jaime thought he vaguely recognised her but could not quite work out from where. She had cascades of dyed platinum blonde hair, only noticeable from the dark roots, and bright blue eyes that could only be the product of contact lenses. In fact, on closer inspection, there seemed little natural about her to Jaime. Her face was almost immobile given the amount of botox she had had done, and her lips were looking suspiciously puffy. In spite of her slightly unsettling fake appearance, Jaime could not help but be relieved at her presence. He did not want to talk to Griff Young about bloody Aerys Targaryen for a moment longer, so was relieved she had intervened.

Griff did not look happy, mind. "I was only asking him about Aerys' mysterious grandson."

"Why?" asked the woman. If her forehead was not frozen by botox, Jaime would have thought that she had raised an eyebrow at Griff.

The man shrugged, suddenly looking very young. "It's in the news, isn't it? And Sergeant Lannister-Tarth is famous around here for his involvement in trying to bring Aerys down back in the day."

"Did you not consider for a moment that he might not wish to talk about it?" the woman asked, her tone almost teasing.

"No, I..."

"Well then, perhaps you should not talk about what does not concern you," the woman smiled, edging herself forward in such a way that she became a barrier between Jaime and Griff. "Now, if you boys don't mind, I think I might get myself a drink."

Looking thoroughly embarrassed, Griff got to his feet and moved away, his face red. Jaime could not help but feel a little relieved; it had taken him long enough to talk about Aerys to his own wife on their first date, let alone some randomer he met in a hotel bar.

Grateful, he turned his saviour. "Thanks so much, let me buy you a drink."

"You don't have to," said the woman, waving her hand at him breezily.

"I want to," replied Jaime earnestly, wanting to show her his gratitude. "What can I get you?"

She thought about it for a few seconds. "A Gin and Tonic please."

"Coming right up."

It took a few minutes to place the order with the barman and wait for it to arrive, but when it did - complete with lemon and ice - the woman smiled at him. "Thanks for this. After the terrible journey I had getting here today, I have been needing this."

"The weather has been awful, hasn't it?"

"Mmm Hmm," she replied, before taking a sip of her drink. The interruption allowed her to change the topic. "So... you are Jaime Lannister-Tarth, wife of Brienne Lannister-Tarth."

Jaime could not help but glance over at Brienne once more. She was now talking to Theon, still seemingly pretending her husband did not exist. "Yes, that's me," he said, proud at the connection, before turning back to the woman. "Why? Have you met my wife?"

The woman shook her head. "No, but I know her by reputation... and I have exchanged a rather lengthy email chain with her on the topic of Ned Stark."

"Have you?" replied Jaime, surprised. "Did you know Ned Stark when he was alive?"

"No, but when working as a journalist, it is important to be aware of all the significant events going on in our little village." Clearly recognising the uncertain expression on Jaime's face, the woman extended her hand towards him. "I am Sarah Lemore, editor of the _Casterly Citizen._ I took a quote from your wife on the topic of Sergeant Stark's award."

Shaking her hand, it suddenly all came back to Jaime. The article that Robb Stark was so proud of - that he had read out fifty times already and which contained a quote from Brienne - had been written by one Sarah Lemore. "Ah," said Jaime, realisation blooming. "It is nice to put a name to a face. You wrote a lovely article about Ned."

At that comment, a strange emotion crossed Sarah's eyes that might have almost been wistfulness, but she shook her head and it disappeared immediately. "He always was a good man... it felt fitting to pay a decent tribute to him."

"It was fitting. He was an inspirational police officer; not just to me, but my wife Brienne, who never even met him. That's her over there."

Unable to hold back any longer, Jaime pointed out Brienne to Sarah. She was still chatting to Theon, while Howland Reed was exiting through the door behind her. Yet, Jaime barely noticed him, as Brienne's hand was rested on her swollen stomach and she looked every inch the mother goddess she was. At the sight, Jaime could not help but let a wave of affection overcome him.

"Congratulations," smiled Sarah.

Not taking his eyes off Brienne, Jaime asked, "what for?"

"Your baby," replied Sarah, before taking a sip of her drink. "I believe Brienne told me about the baby in our email communications, but I wasn't aware she was so far along."

"Eight months," said Jaime, pleased. "It's strange to think that we will get to be a complete family in little less than a month, especially since it took so long to get here."

Sarah's tone turned curious. "Took so long?"

"You know," replied Jaime, suddenly realising he had said too much. "Just normal complications." He tried to change the subject. "Do you have children?"

Evidently surprised by the question, Sarah's eyes went very wide, and she was just about to answer when she was cut across by one of the hotel staff, who announced it was time for everyone to think about sitting down. "Ladies and Gentlemen! The Ceremony is going to start in fifteen minutes. You are now allowed to take your seats. Drinks are allowed in the Great Hall, but no food please."

"Well," said Sarah, her lips turning up in the echo of a smile. "I'd better go take my seat. The readers of _The Casterly Citizen_ will be wanting a blow-by-blow account of all the proceedings."

His mind still full of Brienne, Jaime was pleased that Sarah was departing, as it left him a free man. "It was nice to meet you. I look forward to reading your account of this evening in _The Casterly Citizen_."

"You too," Sarah replied with a smile. "I trust we will bump into each other once again."

Taking the drink with her, Sarah disappeared, leaving Jaime free to begin the slow walk across the room to his wife. Just as he did so, Theon said his goodbyes to Brienne, leaving her entirely alone apart from her orange juice. At least they would have time to talk, even if they did not smooth everything over.

"Wench," Jaime said, the moment he drew level with his wife.

At the sound of her nickname, Brienne looking up at him, her astonishing blue eyes glittering and pointed. She was clearly still annoyed, as she was flaring her nostrils like a slightly pissed off dragon, so Jaime knew he would have to tread carefully.

She folded her arms across her chest, as a strange type of protection. "What do you want?" she snapped, fully in control of the situation even though she was the one sitting down.

The answer came surprisingly easy. "I've come to ask if my wife wants to take her seat with me."

 _I want you, my wife,_ he thought. _The best thing in my life._

Brienne seemed in no mood for a rapprochement, however, as she dropped her gaze back down to her almost empty orange juice. "I'm finishing my drink," she lied imperiously. "Why don't you go and sit down, and I'll come find you in a minute?"

It was no use; Jaime knew he was going to have to be sweet and contrite with her, and later take her back to their hotel room and fuck her so hard she would forgive him anything. He kinda wanted that - that sudden, hot release of tension - but he also needed to be honest. Jaime didn't want to feel so far away from her anymore.

"I'm sorry I've been a dick," he said, wringing his hands. "I know you were trying to do something nice for me back in the hotel room, and I was just rude and mean, so I'm sorry. I'm just a little overwhelmed at the moment."

Her anger dissolved at once, and she looked up at him sympathetically with those big blue eyes of hers as she intertwined their fingers together. "You can talk to me about it, you know? I am your wife, even though I am pregnant. I don't like seeing you like this."

"I know," Jaime sighed, feeling as if a weight was slowly being lifted from his shoulder. "And I _do_ want to talk to you about it, I honestly do. I just think you should know it might be a little upsetting to you, that's all."

Part of Jaime was scared that she would tell him that she did not want to know, but then her expression turned firm. "Upset me. When we get back to the hotel room, you can upset me all you want and then we'll sort it out together, because that is what we should do. We are husband and wife, Jaime; a team. So, please. Talk to me."

She looked so beautiful in that moment that when Brienne got to her feet and cupping his face with her hand, Jaime could not help but rest his fingers on hers and revel in the closeness. "Okay, wench. When we get back to the room, I'll tell you everything."

At his promise, Brienne smiled, all gappy teeth and blushes, and then planted a quick kiss on his lips. Jaime was so relieved, that he just happily let her link his arms with hers.

"Come on then, Sergeant Lannister-Tarth," Brienne said. "Take me to my seat."

So he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! As ever, I would love any theories or feelings about this story in a comment; I write for pleasure, publish for feedback!


	10. The Award Ceremony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned Stark receives his award for services to policing, but something interrupts proceedings...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for coming back for this story. I have had this ready for a while, but have been umming and ahhing about what to do with it for the past couple of days, considering everything that has been happening in the world. I think some of the points raised in this chapter hit slightly differently considering the worldwide Black Lives Matter protests, so I hope you read it considering what you think good policing should be and how we can all work together in the future to build something better.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

The Winterfell Hotel's Great Hall had been decorated splendidly for the Award Ceremony. Up against the far wall, where once must have hung a great tapestry, a huge screen had been placed in order to project a video. Underneath was a dias, complete with a lectern and a microphone stand. As Jaime and Brienne took their seats towards the back of the room, he could not help but comment on it.

"Looks like Lyanna has really gone the whole hog for this prize giving," said Jaime, impressed, slinging a protective arm around his wife's shoulders. "No wonder she's stressed."

"She just wants to honour her brother, that's all," shrugged Brienne, "just like we go to the beach where Galladon died on the anniversary of his death, remember?"

Jaime nodded and smiled at her gently. In the last few years, Jaime had been added to the little party of Brienne and Selwyn that went to lay flowers at the peaceful cove where Galladon Tarth had drowned all those years ago. While Brienne always put on a brave face for her dad, when they got home, she normally needed lots of cuddles from her husband, which Jaime was only too happy to provide. From Brienne's reaction to Galladon's anniversary, Jaime guessed that this ceremony was probably going to be quite emotional for Lyanna, Catelyn, and the wider family. Thinking of the Starks, Jaime looked around to see if he could spot any of them. Bran and Rickon were sitting near the front with Jojen and Meera Reed, alongside Arya and Gendry. Sansa was helping straighten the Hound's tie. Robb was nowhere in sight, but Jaime assumed he was still in the bar with Margaery. While Catelyn was at the front, talking to Barristan, he could not see Lyanna, which he thought was unusual considering her involvement in this event. Jaime turned to Brienne, his curiosity piqued.

"I wonder where Lyanna is."

Brienne shrugged for a second time. "I don't know, probably getting everything ready. There's a couple of rowdy guests to attend to after all; have you seen Barbrey Dustin?"

While Jaime knew of Barbrey, he didn't recognise her by sight, so had to let Brienne point her out to him. The woman was slumped on a chair a few rows from the front, giggling to herself and clearly wasted. After a few moments, she obviously sensed his eyes on her, as she turned towards him. Not wanting to get into a staring contest with her, Jaime looked away only to lock gazes with Sarah Lemore who was sitting a few rows away on the other side of the aisle. She gave Jaime a little wave.

Noticing, Brienne looked at him interestedly. "Who is that?"

"Sarah Lemore," Jaime replied. "She's a reporter at _The Casterly Citizen."_

Brienne's eyes widened in realisation. "Oh yes, she emailed me about this whole award ceremony. She wanted some quotes about Ned, considering I had been pushing to get him recognised for his work posthumously."

"Yeah, I heard," replied Jaime. "We were talking about you at the bar just now."

"Good things, I hope," smiled Brienne, even as she looked a bit nervous.

Knowing what a colossal dickhead he had been, Jaime pressed a kiss onto her cheek to soothe her. "Always."

Jaime barely noticed that Sarah became blocked from his sight when Theon began to wheel the giant projector down the aisle, as Brienne was blushing in the way that always did things to his heart. In fact, he was only conscious of anything other than her when Margaery and Robb sat down on Brienne's other side, both looking excited.

"Are you looking forward to the big ceremony?" asked Brienne, turning to their friends.

"Yeah," sighed Margaery, as if she was not totally convinced, "but I wish Alerie was here. She would have loved to see her granddad be honoured in this way."

As Margaery's expression turned wistful, Robb gazed at her as if she had gone mad. "Margaery, how many times? Alerie is a _baby._ She's not even conscious of who her granddad is."

"Yes, but she would still be dazzled by a ceremony like this," countered Margaery, folding her arms across her chest. "We are in her ancestral home, honouring her grandfather's work. Surely you can see that..."

As Margaery and Robb started squabbling about Alerie, Jaime turned back to Brienne, smiling at her. "That will be us in a few months. Parents."

"It will," she concurred, nodding gently. "Although I am a little worried about the birth, maybe I should be more concerned with what comes after. We will be in charge of a little human, Jaime. It is a miracle that Shadow the cat has survived with us looking after her, let alone a baby."

"But we'll be there to help each other," he said reassuringly. "You are going to make such a good mother."

"And you are going to be such a good dad."

Jaime went to bat away that suggestion - his own father had not been the greatest model, after all, so what hope did he have? - but he was interrupted by Jory Cassel before he could get his words out. As the audience hushed, Jory mounted the platform at the front of the room , tapped the microphone to check it was working a few times, then cleared his throat and began to speak.

"Good evening everyone. My name is Jory Cassel and I am the deputy manager at _The Winterfell Hotel._ My boss Lyanna has been temporarily indisposed, so I would like to welcome you all to the hotel on her behalf."

There was a polite round of applause.

"Before we begin the ceremony in honour of our friend, colleague, and brother Ned Stark, I would just like to remind you that if the fire alarm rings at any point, you are to all leave the build by the emergency exit at the back of the room and congregate out in the courtyard."

"Bloody _Health and Safety_ ," muttered Robb Stark, which earned him a nudge to the ribs from Margaery.

"We are all here this evening to celebrate the life of a very special man; Ned Stark. He was a pillar of the Casterly community for many years, and ultimately lost his life in service of the town he loved so well. With that in mind, we have a short video prepared about his life, before the sitting Minister for Justice, MP Barristan Selmy, a Casterly local, will be here to present the award to Ned Stark's widow, Catelyn. Thank you for listening."

Turning the microphone off, Jory stepped back into the audience - which precipitated another short clap from the audience - before the lights dimmed and the video started. It was mostly a collection of photos and videos of Ned throughout his career set to an easy listening soundtrack; Ned and his old partner Jon Arryn, Ned patrolling the streets of Casterly, Ned holding baby Jon soon after he had been discovered. In many respects, Ned was the type of police officer Jaime had always wanted to be. Honest and true, Ned Stark had dedicated himself to the cause of looking after his fellow man with such commitment that Jaime thought he had only ever been beaten on that front by Brienne. The few interviews on the video also seemed to agree.

"Ned was an officer we all respected," said Masha Heddle from behind the bar at _The Inn._ "Some officers come in thinking they are above the law, but Ned genuinely wanted to help his community. You couldn't fault him for that."

Jorah Mormont, sitting at a table in _Biscuits for All Occasions,_ took a slightly different tone. "He nearly got me chucked in jail for calling my staff interns in order to cut wages during a tough time. Modern slavery, apparently. But apart from that, he was an alright bloke."

"He was the one who found me abandoned when I was a baby," said Jon Snow when it was his turn to appear on the screen. "Although I ended up going into the care system, he always acted as an inspiration for me and we never lost touched. He went above and beyond what his job asked of him, just for me, and I will always be grateful for that."

Yet the video did not stop there, as it was rounded out by comments from friends and family. It began by interviewing Benjen, the absent Stark sibling, who spoke from his Scotland home all about his brother's love for wildlife and for his fellow man.

"He would do anyone a favour, offer anyone his last fiver if he thought it would help," said Benjen wistfully. "It was a contrast to my other brother Brandon, who we called the Wild Wolf to Ned's Quiet Wolf. Yet we always respected Ned's calm confidence, and his steady, unerring dedication to doing the right thing, even though Brandon was the more outgoing and attention-grabbing of the two."

Next up was Robb Stark, who continued much on the same path as his uncle. When he appeared on the screen, the Robb Stark who was sitting nearby gave Margaery a proud grin, which his girlfriend wiped off his face with a kiss. "It was my dad that inspired me to join the police service," said the Robb Stark on the screen, his eyes shining. "He showed me that, as individuals, every single one of us has the chance to make the world a better place. To reform bad practices, and make things better for everyone. Ultimately, my dad lost his life to an abused and corrupt system, but I hope that I have been able to make a contribution to society in his memory, and reform that system in a meaningful way."

Although many people were moved by Robb's somewhat idealised view of his policing career, next up, was Howland Reed, who offered a more nuanced view of the man in question. "Ned was my best friend. We told each other everything; there were no secrets between us. Some on this video will tell you he was a perfect man; noble and heroic and brave. Of course he was all those things, but that is presenting a limited view of who Ned Stark was. He too had a dark side, but his greatest gift in life was to always reject his worst impulses and strive for something better. It is in that spirit that I remember him."

On that oddly bitter note, the video then petered out with more photos and a slightly maudlin song. The lights then came back on and Barristan Selmy mounted the stage, a politician's smile on his face and a flashy medal in his hands. In spite of the raucous applause, Jaime could not help but feel a little odd. The Ned Stark that had been presented in the video had been the one he remembered from the years he worked as his partner, but there was something strange behind the smiles. It was as if there was some secret, lingering just off stage that no one dared name, that Jaime could sense but not quite piece together.

However, that thought was immediately knocked out of his head when Brienne turned to him, smiling.

"That was a lovely video, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Jaime said, not quite able to recapture what he had been feeling. "It was."

* * *

Brienne thought that Barristan Selmy looked supremely happy to be awarding Ned this posthumous prize. She wondered whether it was genuine enthusiasm for the dead man or, through his role as a high ranking politician, Barristan was extremely used to pretending as if he cared about things that he had no interest in.

"That video is quite hard to follow, considering the caring and moving memories that Ned's family and friends sought to share with us," Barristan said slowly, pausing in all the correct places for dramatic effect. "I myself have warm memories of Ned. We grew up as children together in Casterly, and although I remember him as a kind, caring boy who would always look out for a friend, I cannot imagine the sense of pride and pain that Ned's family must be experiencing today seeing him receive this award. Therefore, I would like to welcome to the stage Ned's widow, Catelyn, who will accept this award on his behalf today."

At the invitation, Catelyn got to her feet from her position in the front row and the whole room applauded. When she reached the podium, Barristan smiled. "Come here, Catelyn. Don't be shy. Why don't you say a few words?"

Offering her the microphone, Barristan stepped back, before placing the medal in Catelyn's hand and giving her space to speak. With all eyes on her, Catelyn seemed strangely vulnerable, especially when she gazed down at the medal and looked strangely wistful.

She took a deep breath before speaking. "I had to think very carefully about what words to use today..."

However, the audience never heard what Catelyn had chosen to say as, suddenly, a blood curdling scream broke through the air. A moment of hush pulsated through the room, fear bleeding into the empty spaces. Brienne caught Jaime's eye, looking at him confusedly; he seemed equally perturbed as she was. From the podium, Catelyn's speech stalled as she stared into the crowd, trying to figure out where the sound had come from. No one seemed to have an answer for her, as everyone gathered also started to look around and mutter to each other.

"What was that?"

"A scream, I think."

"It sounded like it came from outside."

Nobody in the room had to wait very long for a resolution to the suspense, however, as the door leading out into the snowy courtyard swung open with an angry _bang_ , propelling a blast of cold air into the room. A shadowed figure stood stark against the white snow. Instinctually, Brienne got to her feet, excitement creeping up her spine. This felt like the beginning of a mystery and, considering how frustrated she had been feeling for the past few days, she thought this might be just the thing she needed to take the edge off. Jaime seemed to have the same idea, as he leapt to his feet too, just as the person entered the room. From beside Brienne, Robb Stark recognised the guest at once.

"Wylla?"

Wylla the cleaning lady looked nothing like she had done a few hours previously when she had interrupted Jaime and Brienne in their hotel room. Then, she had been bopping away to her music, chatty and friendly, but now she looked horror struck. Tears were streaming down her face, ruining her make-up, and she looked positively haunted.

"Somebody! Quick! Help me! He's hurt! He's..."

Being the police officer she was, Brienne was halfway across the room in a heartbeat, even though she had to waddle to get there. Jaime, Robb, and Margaery followed in an instant.

"Wylla, I am Inspector Brienne Lannister-Tarth of the Casterly Constabulary. If you could just tell me what is going on..."

"Howland! He's hurt! You've got to come quickly!" Wylla gasped, her eyes filling with tears. Gesturing wildly to the three of them, Wylla turned on her heel and dashed back out into the snow, giving Brienne, Jaime, Robb, and Margaery no choice but to follow her out into the icy tundra.

In the time since the Ceremony had started, the weather had got much worse, to the extent that Brienne thought it would be difficult for people to leave in the morning if the snow did not melt away in town. However, she barely had time to consider the repercussions of that eventuality, as Wylla was leading the small group across the courtyard towards the Great Keep, the icy weather whipping around their feet. Although her dress had no sleeves and she was in the middle of a snowstorm, Brienne felt warm at the prospect of being a real help, instead of weak and feeble as her pregnancy sometimes made her believe she was.

"What do you think Wylla saw?" asked Jaime, mostly because they could barely see through the blizzard.

Brienne bit her lip, trying not to betray how excited she felt. "I don't know, but whatever it is... it can't be good."

By the time the group made their way across the courtyard, a crowd of curious onlookers had gathered behind them, including most of the rest of the Casterly Constabulary, as well as Barristan and Catelyn.

"What is going on?" demanded Barristan, pushing to the front. "This is meant to be an evening to honour Ned Stark's memory... _oh_."

They had finally arrived at what Wylla had wanted to show them, and it caused her to burst into shrieking, shaking tears. "I found him like this just as I was coming back from the crypts. I don't how he got here, I don't know how..."

"It is alright Wylla," said Jaime, stepping forward and resting his hand on her shoulder. "You did the right thing in coming to get us."

Leaving Jaime to deal with the platitudes, Brienne squatted down next to the body (with great difficulty). Howland was lying on his back, his eyes closed, with a small smattering of snow on his chest. It appeared he had been here for at least a few minutes before Wylla discovered him. A circle of blood pooled out behind his head like a halo, stark white against the snow. No matter how much Wylla screamed, there was nothing they could do about it. He was dead.

As Wylla sobbed and the assembled crowd burst into horrified gasps, Brienne looked up at the Great Keep. Howland's body was lying directly beneath it, under the library balcony. In all likelihood, it seemed as if he had fallen from that great height. She wondered what he had been doing up there when he should have been at the Award Ceremony.

 _But the most important question is_ _did Howland jump? Or was he pushed?_ wondered Brienne.

Needing an answer, she summoned the troops.

"Casterly Constabulary," Brienne said loudly, which resulted in most of her colleagues to materialise out of the crowd before her, "we've got work to do. Podrick and Arya, I want you to cordon off the area around Howland's body, and also restrict access to the library in the Great Keep."

Arya looked at Brienne curiously. "The library? Why?"

Not wanting the assembled onlookers to start rumours when the Constabulary themselves had no information, Brienne kept her voice low. "The position Howland's body is in makes me suspect he fell from the library balcony. We will have to treat that as a potential crime scene."

From there she turned to Jon. "Jon, can you find Meera and Jojen Reed? This news needs to be broken to them sensitively, but they also need to be questioned about their father's movements this evening. I trust you can do this for me."

Jon nodded. "Of course, Chief."

"Jaime," Brienne continued, "I need you to round everyone up and return them to the Great Hall. Impress upon them the need to come to us if they know _anything_ about Howland's activities this evening. And then can you go and find Lyanna? We will need to work out what to do with Howland's body, particularly now the weather is getting worse."

"Okay," replied Jaime, his expression solemn. "Shall I also call for back-up? It is not like we have any resources to deal with this correctly. We are all in our civvies."

"Don't worry, I will handle that," Brienne reassured him, before turning to the Robbs. Her two detectives were gazing at her intently, a world away from their initial indifference when she had first joined the Constabulary all those years ago. "Robbs, I want you to go with Jaime and work on gathering information from those who were at the ceremony. We need to work out if anything suspicious happened this evening; absent guests, extra guests, strange goings on."

Robb Stark furrowed his brow. "Do you think this was a murder, Chief?"

"She _always_ thinks it is a murder," Robb Arryn replied, trying to sound light-hearted. The joke choked in the cold air.

"I am not ruling anything out yet," said Brienne, turning to the Hound and Margaery last of all. "Sandor, Margaery, I need you to go and retrieve Joff and then make a thorough examination of this scene. Photos, drugs testing... _everything._ The weather is getting worse and we are losing evidence by the second."

As she impressed upon her subordinates the need for speed, the Casterly Constabulary moved as one; Podrick and Arya huddled together, working out the best way to cordon off the area, the Robbs started ordering the crowd to retreat, while Jon, the Hound, and Margaery headed off in search of Jojen, Meera, and Joff respectively. Only Jaime did not move.

"What are you going to do, wench?" he asked concernedly. "I don't think it is a good idea to put yourself under too much stress, what with the baby..."

Batting away his concerns with a wave of her hand, Brienne went to stand next to Wylla, who was still looking highly traumatised. "I am going to take Wylla for a cup of tea - she seems as if she needs one - and then we are going to have to have a little chat."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! So... what do you think happened to Howland? Although I have been obscuring it with Jaime/Brienne baby drama, I have already dropped a fair few clues (although, obviously, more are to come).
> 
> I would love to hear what you think about this story in a comment or a kudos, and appreciate each and every one!


	11. The Lady in the Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne interviews Wylla, and Jaime offers to talk...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for coming back to this chapter. I have been looking forward to this one for AGES, so I hope you enjoy :)

With the Casterly Constabulary having all leapt into action, Brienne took Wylla back towards the hotel out of the icy weather. Given that both were in heels and dresses, it would be a blessed relief to get inside, as the warmth would immediately start to invade Brienne's skin.

"Come on Wylla," said Brienne consolingly to the snivelling witness, as they headed back into the bar adjacent to the Great Hall. "We'll go and get you a nice cup of tea, and then we'll sit down and talk about this."

Unable to speak, Wylla just nodded mutely and let Brienne lead her across the icy courtyard. The blanket of snow was getting thicker and thicker, the sky dark with flurry, so Brienne could only hope that her colleagues would be able to gather sufficient evidence before it was all buried by the oncoming blizzard. She imagined they had ten, twenty minutes tops before all the details disappeared. And if they did not pick up on important clues, they were in danger of letting this mystery run away from them before they had even started.

Once they were back in the hotel, Brienne led Wylla through to the little staff room behind the bar. Just as she hoped, it was empty, but there was a small sitting area with a kitchenette, complete with a kettle, a sofa, and a box of biscuits that Brienne knew she could use to relax Wylla.

"So," said Brienne, kicking off her heels in an effort to create a calmer environment. "What type of tea would you like? By the looks of it, we have camomile, English breakfast, peppermint..."

"Camomile, please," sniffled Wylla quietly, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand.

Brienne smiled at her gently. "Good choice. I hear that one is very relaxing."

As Brienne made a camomile tea for Wylla and a glass of milk for herself, the Constabulary's first lead just sat morosely on the sofa staring blankly ahead of her, her eyes glazed over in her sadness. Brienne had seen that look many times before, mostly on the faces of people who could not believe the horrors they had just witnessed. It was quite a contrast from the Wylla who had stumbled into Room 69 only hours before.

Once the drinks were prepared, Brienne took the cups and set them down on the coffee table in front of the sofa. At once, Wylla picked up her tea and wrapped a protective hand around it before taking a sip. In murder cases, it was often wise to treat the person who found the body as a suspect, but there was something about Wylla's curled up, self-contained posture that made Brienne believe that was not the case of affairs here. She seemed too fragile.

"Right, Wylla, would it be okay if I interview you now?" asked Brienne gently, not wanting to spook the witness. "I know this has been a traumatic evening for you, but the course of events is still fresh in your memory. You may remember some details now that you won't later."

Wylla worried at her bottom lip for a moment, thinking the prospect over, before nodding. "Alright, I will try my best... can I keep drinking my tea?"

"Of course," replied Brienne, reaching for her clutch bag to retrieve her phone. "Just one moment and I will have everything set up."

Wylla look another long sip of tea as Brienne got the audio app set up. It wasn't the most official way of doing things but, given the circumstances, Brienne did not have much choice. The Constabulary would have to work with the limited resources they had. "Interview with Ms Wylla..."

"Armstrong."

"Interview with Ms Wylla Armstrong on Saturday 18th November 2023. 9.34pm. Present Chief Inspector Brienne Lannister-Tarth of the Casterly Constabulary, and Ms Armstrong herself. Are you ready to speak now Ms Armstrong?"

When the witness sniffed loudly once more, Brienne rooted around in her clutch bag for a small pack of tissues, which Wylla took gratefully. "Thank you, Brienne. I am sorry I am so upset, but I've known Howland a long time... I didn't expect to see him like that."

"You knew each other as children?"

Wylla nodded sadly. "Yes. We grew up in Casterly together. He was Ned Stark's best friend, always following him around like a shadow. Ned was quiet, but Howland was quieter. Kind, though, and would never hurt a fly. Lyanna in particular was fond of him; they used to play the Knights of the Laughing Tree together. It was a whole magical world they had made up for themselves. Even Ned wasn't allowed to play with them."

Brienne found this revelation a little surprising. Of the few interactions she had seen between Howland and Lyanna, they had all seemed stilted and tense. Perhaps in the years since they had played together as children, something had happened between them to lead to estrangement. Brienne could not help but wonder what that reason was.

"So, Wylla, let's start at the beginning," said Brienne gently, wanting to direct the witness back to the issue at hand. "Tell me how you came across Howland?"

Sniffing, Wylla dabbed at her eyes with a tissue as she tried to compose herself. "I was trying to get everything prepared for the ceremony..."

"In what way?" asked Brienne, not wanting to startle her.

Wylla took a sip of tea, as if to steady herself. "Lyanna wanted to triple check everything was safe. With Barristan here, it was important that the hotel was secure against any unwanted guests."

"Ah yes," said Brienne, remembering suddenly, "you told me about the crypts when we spoke earlier."

"I did. I mean, I am not really in charge of them - that's Theon's job - but Lyanna was so stressed she asked me to check one final time if they were all shut up."

"Why would she do that?" asked Brienne, raising one sceptical eyebrow. "Surely she trusts her employees to lock up properly?"

Wylla shrugged. "I don't know... maybe because there are so many people here from when we were young; Howland, Catelyn, Barristan, and Barbrey. Perhaps she wanted to show that she was more capable than any of them thought. She had to triple check."

That comment sat uneasily with Brienne. "Why would she think her childhood friends believed her uncapable?"

"I..." began Wylla, before stalling and looking down at her cup of tea. "Lyanna has always been a dreamer. She had bigger ambitions than everyone else in Casterly. She didn't want to work in a pub or at the family business; she wanted to go to London and get a degree, to have the light of the big city shining in her eyes."

Brienne could sympathise with that ambition; once, she had dreamt she would find happiness in London, not realising it was waiting for her in a sleepy village in Somerset.

"Did she not succeed in her ambition?" asked Brienne gently, which only inspired Wylla to snap her head back up. "I mean... you said that Lyanna thinks her childhood friends believe her uncapable."

At that question, Wylla suddenly became evasive, her mouth stretching into an unhappy line. "She went to university in London, but it didn't last long. She was home within a year."

"Why is that?"

As quick as a flash of lightning, Wylla's expression darkened. "I don't see what that has got to do with Howland's death."

"Not much," replied Brienne swiftly, suspicious of Wylla's reluctance to speak, "but every detail is important when coming to conclusions about what happened. Why did Lyanna come back from London after a year?"

Taking another sip of tea, Wylla gave Brienne another non-committal shrug. "I have no idea. You would have to ask her. I just know that she was embarrassed by it, as she felt like a failure."

At the end of her sentence, Wylla took a further great gulp of tea, fixing Brienne with a challenging stare daring her to ask more. Yet Brienne did not take the bait. Even though she doubted whether Wylla was telling the truth - she had a feeling she _did_ know why Lyanna had left university early all those years ago but was unwilling to say - it did not seem the most pressing issue at this point.

Consequently, Brienne changed tack.

"Very well," she said, letting the topic lie. "You were telling me about earlier tonight. Lyanna asked you to go and check the crypts were locked."

Clearly relieved at being given the opportunity to talk about something else, Wylla nodded firmly. "Yes. When everyone was gathering in the bar before the ceremony, she asked me to go and triple check the locks on the crypt doors. I asked her why Theon could not do it - he is the one normally in charge of the crypts - but Lyanna told me that she had ordered him to keep an eye on Barbrey Dustin. She always did like a drink, and so is known for being a bit of a liability."

"So what did you do then?" asked Brienne, not wanting to get side tracked by Barbrey's drunken antics.

"I did what Lyanna asked and went to check the crypts. It took a little while because I had to go and get my coat, and I discovered it had been mislaid in the cloakroom, but I eventually headed out across the courtyard towards the crypts."

Brienne considered what Wylla had said, remembering what she herself had seen earlier than evening. Just after Theon had come to collect Barbrey to take her to her seat, Brienne had spotted Howland talking to Lyanna the other side of the bar. Perhaps this would have been roughly at the same time Wylla had been searching for her coat.

"Did you see anyone as you crossed to the crypts?" asked Brienne carefully, wanting to find out whether Wylla had noticed anyone while going about her tasks.

Wylla thought about it for a moment, but then she shook her head. "No. Although I did hear people talking in the distance, but I put that down to everyone at the bar."

Disappointed, Brienne pressed on. "And then you went to the crypts?"

"Yes," said Wylla, clearly retracing her steps through the snowy landscape of _The Winterfell Hotel._

"And was everything locked up as you expected?"

"Yes," confirmed Wylla again. "To be honest, Lyanna is a bit paranoid about the crypts. I know there are passages that lead out to Winter Town but, given the building work, only Theon knows the ways in and out, and several people had all checked they were locked already."

Brienne agreed with Wylla's summation of Lyanna's fears. Just today, both Wylla and Theon had mentioned to her the routes in and out _The Winterfell Hotel_ only accessible through crypts. She wondered if anyone had tried to break in using them before.

"How long did it take you to check?"

Wylla did the calculations in her head. "Well, there are several tunnels once you get past the main entrance, so I would say it took me twenty minutes in total. It doesn't help that it is so cold down there that all the locks are a bit stiff."

"And what did you do once you had finish checking?"

"I decided to head back to the party," said Wylla, a mournful cloud passing over her face. "It had taken me so long to get my coat and check the crypts that I figured I was already late, so I decided to head back across the courtyard... and then I found Howland."

"Describe the scene to me," ordered Brienne, wanting to get the image straight in her head. "What did he look like when you found him?"

Unable to stop herself, a tear rolled down Wylla's cheek which she quickly swiped away. "It was just as you saw him. He was lying on his back with a smattering of snow on him, so if I didn't know the hotel like I do, from a distance I would have thought he was a rock or a bench or something. When I spotted him, I went forward to see if he was alright... but there was so much blood I didn't know what to do, so I ran as quickly as I could to find help and... you know the story from there."

Brienne nodded solemnly, trying to think if there was any small detail that she had missed which may prove decisive. She was still mulling over the snow covered courtyard in her head when the door to the bar swung open, revealing a rather chilly looking Jon Snow, shuffling into the room on his crutches.

"Ah Chief," he said, flicking his eyes from Brienne to Wylla and back again. "Theon said he saw you going in here."

Leaving her phone on record, Brienne said, "interview paused 9:48pm. How can I help you Constable Snow?"

Before Jon could answer, however, Wylla interrupted. "Constable Snow?" she said loudly, almost disbelievingly. "As in _Jon_ Snow?"

Confused by her reaction, Jon furrowed his brow. "Yes, that's me. How do you know me?"

When Brienne turned to look at Wylla too, at once noting her stupefied expression, the cleaning lady took another sip of tea and then shook her head. It was almost as if she rebooted herself. "Oh... n-n-nothing. It is just that Lyanna has told me all about you."

"Lyanna?" asked Jon, baffled. "Why did Lyanna tell you about me?"

A suspicious blush came to Wylla's cheeks. "Oh... nothing much. Just that Ned was the one who found you all those years ago. Was it really thirty years ago?"

"Yeah," said Jon, nodding. "I turned thirty in August."

Brienne watched Wylla sceptically for a few moments as she took another sip of her tea. She had been a police officer long enough to know when something remained unsaid, but she suspected now was not the right moment to push for it. Instead, she kept her tone bright.

"Wylla, do you mind if I just speak to my colleague for a moment?"

"Of course," replied Wylla, some of the tension coming out of her shoulders. "I will just be here with my tea."

After one nod of thanks, Brienne turned to Jon and lead him over into the little kitchenette, far enough away that they were afforded some privacy from Wylla. Once there, Jon immediately jumped in with what he had to say. "I found Jojen and Meera," he admitted quickly, his voice hushed so Wylla could not pick up on the information he was sharing.

"Yes? And?" replied Brienne, her excitement growing at the possibility of a mystery to chase. She had a gut feeling that Howland's movements throughout the evening would be vital to understanding how he ended up lying dead in the snow, and Meera and Jojen were the best place to start.

"They said that, while they weren't with him in the bar, that he had wanted to speak to Lyanna all evening."

That surprised Brienne. "Lyanna? What did he want with Lyanna?"

Jon shrugged, before shooting a shifty look at Wylla, who was still drinking her tea. "They don't know, they just said he had been pretty agitated to talk to Lyanna ever since they arrived at the hotel, but she had been avoiding him. When he left them at the bar, they assumed he had gone to find to her. I have their full interview recorded on my phone if you are interested."

"Send it across," said Brienne firmly. "Hopefully I can compare it to what Wylla had to say and we can start to piece together what is going on here."

Jon hobbled on his crutch slightly, redistributing his weight. "What _do_ you think is going on here? A murder?"

"I know you guys always think I am hyper fixated on murder and mayhem, but I am not willing to discount any theories yet," replied Brienne, dropping her voice even further in order to keep some secrets from Wylla. "Howland may have been murdered, but he also might have just fallen. We don't have enough evidence yet."

"From the library balcony?" asked Jon sceptically. "What was he even doing in there in the first place?"

Brienne shook her head slowly, unable to provide an answer. "I don't know, Jon, I don't know, but there are several leads we can pursue..."

Wanting to jump into theorising, Brienne went to lay out her plans, but Wylla soon cut across her as she got up from the sofa. She put her cup of tea back on the coffee table, letting the moisture sink into the wood, before crossing the room to the kitchenette. "Have you finished with me now? I am so sorry, but I really need to go to bed. I'm so tired."

It was only at Wylla's comment that Brienne realised that she also felt exhausted. What with the Award Ceremony, her argument with Jaime, her pregnancy, and now Howland's death, Brienne was so crushingly sleepy she just wanted to return to Room 69 and curl up in a big ball with her husband's arms around her.

"We are done for now," said Brienne, turning to Wylla, managing to keep her tone casual, "but we may need to ask more questions as more evidence comes to light. Thank you for your time, Ms Armstrong."

For the benefit of the recording, she concluded with, "interview terminated at 9.55pm."

* * *

After Wylla had left the room, Brienne went to retrieve her phone and her shoes before turning to Jon. "Shall we go find the others?" she asked. "I think they might need some help."

Jon nodded. "Yes. We are going to have to work out what to do with the body, at least until we can call back up."

With Jon's agreement, the two of them followed where Wylla had led and crossed the threshold back into the bar. Brienne had been planning to head straight to the Great Hall to meet up with the others, but she found she did not have to as Jaime was just entering the bar through the door leading to the courtyard, his gold hair flecked with snowflakes.

"Wench," he said warmly the moment he spotted her. "Have you finished with Wylla?"

"Yes," Brienne replied. She was about to elaborate, but then Jon tapped her on the elbow.

"I'm going into the Great Hall. I'll meet you there in a minute."

"Okay," said Brienne, at which Jon nodded to both Jaime and Brienne before hobbling off in the direction of the large oak door. The moment he disappeared into the room still fairly full of guests, Brienne found herself alone with her husband, so she approached him tentatively and gave him a small smile. She was still not entirely sure how things sat between them.

"You have snow in your hair, did you know?" she asked, lifting one hand to dust the flakes out of his golden mane.

If Brienne was worried about how to paper things over with Jaime, she quickly realised she did not need to be, as he replied by curling his shortened arm around her waist. "I did. It is very snowy out there."

"What were you doing outside?" Brienne asked, intrigued. "Didn't I ask you to go and find Lyanna?"

"You did," replied Jaime, drawing closer to her and locking both his arms around her. "And I _did_ find her up in her office, but then I took her to see Howland's body in order to decide what to do with it."

Brienne narrowed her eyes at her husband with suspicion. After Wylla's interview, there was something niggling at Casterly's Chief Inspector concerning Lyanna, but she could not quite put her finger on it. "What was Lyanna doing when you found her?" asked Brienne, wanting to try and get the timeline straight in her head. "From what I gather, she has been missing for much of the evening."

To Brienne's surprise, Jaime let out a little chuckle. "She was sitting behind her desk taking a swig of something that was obviously not water. She told me it was for stress, but then I said that it didn't matter now as we had just found Howland... dead."

"How did she react to that?" asked Brienne, multiple images of how Lyanna could have responded coming to mind.

Tears. Weeping. Wailing. Maniacal laughter.

 _She's not Cersei,_ Brienne reminded herself. _Or Melara._

In spite of the obvious cloud of suspicion circling Lyanna, Jaime did not quite seem to get why Brienne was asking him that question, so gave her all the details just to be sure. "Oh, she was upset, just as you would expect. But then she took another swig of her drink and said she would do anything to help find out what had happened; Howland was one of her oldest friends, after all. It was then that I mentioned that Arya and Pod were cordoning of the crime scene, but that we would need somewhere to store his body until an autopsy can be performed. Lyanna volunteered the cellars - apparently, they are ice cold all year round - and then called up some of her employees to help. In fact, I had just finished organising Howland's transport down to the cellar when you found me."

The smile on Jaime's face told Brienne that he wanted a bit of verbal affirmation of what a good job he had done but, deciding to save that for later, she instead double down on inquiring about the most pressing issue. "Where is Lyanna now?"

"She's gone to her room," said Jaime, the last few snowflakes melting in his hair. "I think it has been a stressful day, and everybody seems too shocked to conduct interviews now. The Robbs and I decided it was probably best if we saved them for the morning, when everyone has a bit more perspective on things."

"But what about...?"

Knowing that she would be like a dog with a bone on this issue, Jaime lifted one hand and put two fingers gently on Brienne's lips to silence her. "Tomorrow, my love. Lyanna was quite upset, and Barristan and Catelyn were in too much shock to talk. The weather is getting worse too, so I redirected most of the officers to help Arya and Pod. We also tried calling the local police service, but the weather is now too treacherous for anyone to get out here. We will have to hope things change by the morning, at least so we can get reinforcements to help us deal with this mess."

"That's a problem," said Brienne concernedly, drawing back from Jaime slightly so she could be in Chief Inspector mode rather than Wife mode. "There's only so long we can keep Howland down in the cellars, and..."

"We'll sort it out tomorrow," interjected Jaime warmly, lifting his hand to cup her cheek. "The others are just tying up the last few ends, then Theon is going to lock everything up for the night. We should really go back to our hotel room."

"But..."

Jaime silenced Brienne with a quick peck on the lips. "There is nothing we can do about any of this tonight; and, anyway... I thought we should probably still have our talk when we got back to the room. Our marriage is still important in spite all of this."

Brienne's eyes widened with surprise. "You still want to talk?"

"Of course," replied Jaime, amusement dancing in his smile at her incredulous reaction. "I don't want things to be weird between us, so I'll try my best to explain... even if I don't have the words."

Having no adequate way to express her gratitude, Brienne tried to get as close as she could to him considering the baby bump, then pressed a lingering kiss to his lips. "That's all I want," she said breathlessly once they pulled apart. "God, I know we are both sometimes completely rubbish at expressing what we feel, so it is enough for me if you try... enough if you meet me halfway."

"I don't want you to be upset, that's all," murmured Jaime softly, nudging his nose against hers.

"I won't be, I promise," Brienne said, before pecking another feather-light kiss to his lips. "So shall we go back to the hotel room now?"

Jaime smiled at her wistfully for a few moments before letting out a long sigh. "I think I just have to check with the others that everything at the crime scene is in order before I come and find you."

"I'll come with you," Brienne started to say, but Jaime shook his head.

"It's fine, I'll just tell the others that you are tired after interviewing Wylla. They'll understand." When Brienne went to protest, Jaime planted another kiss on her lips - this one quietened her objections, but also established a thrum of want between them - before his tone turned flirtatious. "And, anyway, if I come back to our room to find you wrapped up in our bed all naked and cuddly, I might be a little bit more disposed to talk."

Playfully rolling her eyes at him, Brienne broke free of his embrace. "Fine, but make sure that all our colleagues know that we have a _lot_ of work to do tomorrow. Now the courtyard is covered in snow, we've got to make sure that no stone is left unturned in the library in trying to discover what happened here. It is what good police officers would do."

"I don't doubt that for a moment, so that is what _we_ will do," Jaime smiled, before turning back towards the Great Hall. Her reluctance at being parted from him clearly showed on her face, as Jaime stalled. "Go, wench. Remember what I said; naked and cuddly, then I'll be in the mood to talk."

"You sex fiend," teased Brienne, taking a few steps away from him.

Jaime's cheeks flushed pink. "While the sex is great, I think I'm often more into the snuggling, to be honest."

"Gross," she laughed.

"Have you met us?" Jaime chuckled in response, his green eyes bright.

"I have, unfortunately," Brienne grinned, even her gaze softened. "And I trust that we can fully be _us_ again back in our room."

All amusement went out of Jaime's eyes at once at that proposition, as he stared at her with such warmth and affection that she almost burned.

"I'll hold you to it."

* * *

As she walked back to their hotel room, Brienne struggled to focus on whatever mystery Wylla, Howland, and Lyanna were embroiled in as she was finally going to discover what had been bothering Jaime. After what felt like forever, it seemed that her husband was finally in a position where he felt ready to lay all the cards on the table and explain why he had been acting so strange. Remembering her previous unsuccessful attempts to get him to open, Brienne began to give herself a pep talk in order that she would not muck up this try.

 _I shouldn't talk too much,_ Brienne told herself. _I'll let him lead the way._

When she returned to Room 69, Brienne found it bathed in moonlight. Closing the door behind her, Brienne could not help but let her gaze drift to all the little pieces of her and Jaime's life that were scattered around the room; her pregnancy pillow, Jaime's clothes folded up on the chair, her hairdryer. Given the events of that night, they felt strangely comforting and familiar in what could be a scary world.

Tired, Brienne moved towards the bed, wanting to fulfil her promise to Jaime and be both cuddly and naked by the time he got back. However, she was impeded by the sound of something crunching beneath her shoe. Looking down, Brienne noted a folded up piece of paper on the floor that seemed as if it had been violently shoved under the door while she and Jaime had been out. Leaning down with some difficulty, Brienne picked it up, expecting it to be a note from _The Winterfell Hotel_ offering discounts on massages or dinner or something. On closer inspection, however, Brienne discovered it was an ordinary piece of paper on which had been fixed cuttings of letters from magazines, forming out a message.

A bolt of ice shot up Brienne's spine when she realised what it said.

DEAR BITCH,

HAVE YOU MISSED ME?

I HAVEN'T MISSED YOU, BUT I _HAVE_ MISSED MY LITTLE LION PUP.

AND THIS TIME, I WILL GET WHAT I WANT.

JAIME.

AND I WILL CUT THAT BASTARD RIGHT OUT OF YOUR BELLY TOO AS PAYMENT FOR WHAT YOU STOLE.

IT IS WRITTEN IN THE SKY.

MELARA xxx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry. You all know my deep and abiding love for returning villains, and particularly Melara Hetherspoon! Let me know in a comment or kudos what the hell you think is happening!


	12. Dear Bitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of finding the letter, Jaime has to comfort his wife...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm sorry this has been a little while, but I am generally updating my fics slower these days because I'm a little overwhelmed atm, but I hope you like this one.

After Jaime said goodbye to Brienne, he headed back into the Great Hall where he found some of the Casterly Constabulary still lingering. The Robbs were standing in a corner, talking in muted voices, as if they were in the opening credits of some detective drama as the camera panned around them. As Jaime approached, Robb Arryn nodded in acknowledgement.

"Hey Jaime, how's it going?"

"Fine," replied Jaime, wanting to get this chit-chat out of the way so he could return to his hotel room and be with his wife. "Brienne's just gone to bed. She's exhausted, and it sounds as if we've got to do some proper investigating tomorrow, especially if we don't reinforcements from the police force due to the weather. How is everything going here?"

"As you would expect," said Robb Arryn, running a hand through his dark hair. "Everyone was pretty shaken up, so we took initial statements from as many people as we could in the hall stating where they were at the time of Howland's death, but most people were just watching the ceremony or didn't even know who Howland was. I'm not so sure we are going to get many witnesses this way."

Jaime sighed. With the weather worsening and a lack of resources, it was unlikely the Casterly Constabulary would be able to do a thorough forensic examination of either the crime scene or the body, so witness testimony would be what they had to hinge their investigation on. "Maybe people would be more receptive to questioning in the morning."

"Maybe," said Robb Stark, but there was something in his tone that sounded sceptical. "I just think we need to work out if anyone was missing from the ceremony... but perhaps that is for tomorrow. Most of the guests have returned to their rooms, and the others have cordoned off both the library and the area in which Howland's body was found."

Jaime nodded, suddenly noting how tired he felt. "I think you are right. It has been a long night, and we can't do anything other than what we already have until we know we have the support of the local police."

"Looks like you should go back to your wife, Sergeant Lannister-Tarth," smiled Robb Stark teasingly. "And remember what I said. It's healthy and good for her; good you both, in fact. You should go do it... but not too loud, Margaery and I have to sleep in the next bedroom."

Remembering the horribly awkward conversation Jaime had had with Robb about his sex life, he waved his hand dismissively as he blushed. "Yes, I remember what you said, but really it is none of your business."

"Then make sure it _stays_ none of my business," shot back Robb, sweeping his fingers over his moustache. "We all know how you two always fail spectacularly to keep it private, so please, I would appreciate it if you do it quietly."

As Robb Arryn began to snigger in agreement, Jaime found himself blushing in a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance. In truth, neither of the detectives had grown up in the entire time that Jaime had worked with them, and that they would bring up the times that he and his wife had been less than discreet right now seemed immensely childish. Consequently, he pulled a face and stuck his middle finger up at them both.

Robb Stark laughed. "Oh, how _mature."_

"Don't make fun of my wife then," snarked Jaime.

"I'm not making fun of your wife," chuckled Robb good humouredly. "I'm just telling you to _keep it down."_

After reluctantly promising him that he would try, Jaime left the Robbs in order to check on the others. He found Arya, Pod, Margaery, the Hound, and Joff outside, doing their best to cordon off the crime scene. Using materials Theon had provided, they seemed to have done a pretty good job of it and now were intent on returning to the warmth.

"Hey Jaime," said Margaery, the second Jaime came over to greet them. "What are you doing out here? It's freezing. We should all get back inside."

Joff woofed as if to voice his agreement.

"The dog agrees," announced the Hound. "This weather is so awful that I doubt we can do anything until the morning, so I vote we all go to bed."

Margaery nodded. "Yeah. The library has been locked off to guests, Howland's body has been placed in the cellars, and we've cordoned this area off the best we can. I'm not sure there is anything else we can do until the morning. Where is Brienne?"

"She's gone to bed, she's exhausted," answered Jaime. "And knowing her, she'll be all over the mystery of Howland's death like a rash tomorrow, so I think its best she takes the opportunity to sleep when she can."

Margaery smiled; obviously, she agreed with Jaime's assessment of the situation. "Yes. We all know how Brienne cannot resist a good murder mystery, so I think it is time you get back to your room and look after your wife, don't you Jaime? Make sure she gets a good night's rest."

Knowing that Margaery was right and there was clearly no more that Jaime could do to help the unfolding investigation, he took his time to say goodbye to his colleagues before heading to his hotel room and Brienne. As he made his way through the icy weather, Jaime could not help but imagine the warmth of lying in bed with her, her fingers in his hair and his hand on her belly. They had things to talk about, of course, and Jaime was struggling with how exactly he could tell his wife about his mother's death. However, he wanted to try, so when he arrived at Room 69, Jaime paused in order to gather his thoughts.

 _I can do this,_ he told himself, _I can do this in a way where I share my fears without scaring her._

Pushing the door open, Jaime expected to find Brienne naked and cuddly, just as he suggested. However, to his surprise, his wife was still fully clothed. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched over in such a way that her face was shrouded in shadow. Although he could not see her properly, he could tell that she was upset.

"Brienne, what's the matter?" asked Jaime, rushing to her side in an instance. Not able to stop himself, he slung an arm around his wife's waist and pulled her close. There was something in her eyes that made Jaime want to hold her near to him and protect her against the wolves outside. Although they were pinned side by side, there was just enough space between them for Brienne to turn and gaze at him, her big blue eyes filled with tears. The worst thoughts flashed through his mind when he saw her fear so, as he looked into her worried sapphire eyes, he found himself saying, "I won't let anyone hurt you, okay?"

As an answer to his promise, Brienne extended her hand to him, in which was balled a crumpled bit of paper. He had to take his arm from around her in order to unravel it, so it took a few moments for Jaime to actually see the words written on the page and then digest what he was reading.

DEAR BITCH,

HAVE YOU MISSED ME?

I HAVEN'T MISSED YOU, BUT I _HAVE_ MISSED MY LITTLE LION PUP.

AND THIS TIME, I WILL GET WHAT I WANT.

JAIME.

AND I WILL CUT THAT BASTARD RIGHT OUT OF YOUR BELLY TOO AS PAYMENT FOR WHAT YOU STOLE.

IT IS WRITTEN IN THE SKY.

MELARA xxx

After staring at the note uncomprehendingly for a moment, Jaime turned to look at Brienne, confused. While the words were a little disturbing, he could not let himself be overwhelmed be fear, so Jaime allowed a nervous huff of breath to escape his chest. "What is this?" he asked, letting out a befuddled but hesitant laugh.

Instead of immediately providing an answer, Brienne just stared at him as if he had gone crazy. "It is a letter from Melara, Jaime. I found it on the floor when I came back to the hotel room... she's here... she's _back_."

His wife looked so whey-faced and terrified that Jaime read the text again, letting the truth of the words sink in. He had last seen Melara at her trial when she had been raving and desperate, calling him a liar for not declaring his love for her. On the day, it had chilled him to the bone, and now he felt that old coldness sending a prickle across his skin.

"She can't be," Jaime croaked, staring down at the letter and trying to make sense of it. "She's in a psychiatric institute... she's not going to be released..."

"Then how do you explain this?"

Jaime shrugged as he turned from the letter back to his wife. "A joke? A practical joke?"

Brienne pulled a disbelieving face. "Who would do something so terrible?"

"There's hundreds of people in this hotel," replied Jaime, thinking of all the guests and staff alike he had met but did not quite have a read on yet; Lyanna Stark, Theon Greyjoy, Catelyn Stark, Barristan Selmy, Sarah Lemore, Barbrey Dustin, Griff Young, and Wylla Armstrong to name just a few. "Any one of them could hold a grudge against you."

"No one held a grudge like Melara," said Brienne firmly, as if that settled the matter. "No one. She stabbed me in the shoulder while she was trying to get to you. No one could hate me like her."

At the memory, she skirted her free hand over her shoulder, where Jaime knew she was scarred by her last interaction with Melara. It was a side of Brienne that she only ever let Jaime see. As Brienne showed her vulnerable side - soft, delicate, and usually well hidden - Jaime grew suddenly determined to protect her. Looking for a way to reassure her, he gazed back at the letter, trying to look for clues. He did not know why, but he just felt as if there was something _off_ with this letter that he couldn't put his finger on.

"Why do you think it's spelt out of magazine cuttings?"

Brienne shrugged while sniffling. "She wanted to be intimidating, I suppose. To use the whole ransom note aesthetic to full affect."

"Yes," said Jaime slowly, seeing his wife's argument but not necessarily agreeing, "but there is still something off about this."

"What?" asked Brienne, looking at him through narrowed eyes.

"Well, for starters, if we are really getting pedantic about this, she didn't used to call me lion pup but lion _cub._ Wouldn't the real Melara know that?" said Jaime, pointing out the key bits of the letter that he found questionable. "And what is this written in the sky stuff?"

"She thought you and her were destined to be together, didn't she? That you were hers, and that I stole you from her. That you were... were..."

And without finishing her sentence, Brienne's defences crumbled, and she burst into tears. Hardly able to stand it, Jaime abandoned the note on the bed beside him and wrapped his arms tightly around his wife and their baby she was carrying. He wanted nothing more to protect and comfort her, to make her see that he would not let anyone hurt her, would not let anyone hurt _them_. Jaime refused to fail her. Perhaps she sensed that he was trying to be strong for her, as at once, she melted into his embrace.

"Oh wench," he said, impassioned, cradling her in the curve of his body. He hoped his closeness would comfort her, but Brienne continued to weep on his shoulder. "I'm yours, totally yours. Whatever Melara thought is wrong..."

He could feel the tears on her cheek when she rested her head in the crook of his neck. "Last time she nearly broke us, Jaime. She didn't care what you or I felt..."

"It might not even be her..."

"I _know_ it is," sobbed Brienne, winding her strong arms around him so tightly that Jaime thought he might break. "It is no coincidence she is back now, mere hours after Howland died..."

In spite of her tears, Jaime let out a disbelieving huff of laughter. "Why would Melara kill Howland?"

"Why wouldn't she? She's killed before. She's..."

Pulling back slightly, Jaime forced Brienne's chin up so he could look her in the eye. Her bottom lip wobbled. "Melara is not here. How could she even be here? The weather has been atrocious - the local police can't even get here the blizzard is so bad - and she's not on the guest list. So how is she supposed to have even got into the hotel?"

"I don't know!" said Brienne exasperatedly, "but if she wants to be here, she will be here. You know what she is capable of, you know what she resorted to last time..."

In all the time Jaime had known Brienne, she had always been so tough on the outside, while hiding a tender heart that she kept well armoured. Now, that inner feeling was bursting out, and he just wanted to hold her together and make sure her fear did not destroy her.

"I won't let her come between us. I won't let her hurt you, or our baby, or our little family we are building," said Jaime passionately, wiping one of her tear-stained cheeks with his only hand. "You mean everything to me, Brienne. Everything. And even though it may not be easy to live with me sometimes, I won't let anyone or anything hurt you, I promise you."

From Brienne's panic-stricken expression, Jaime knew she was expecting him to be thinking of Melara, but instead his mind went to his mother. She had died giving birth to Tyrion and there had been so much blood that Jaime sometimes still felt the warmth of it on his hands... Before he had any time to truly digest that horrible memory, however, Brienne's lips were on his, tasting salty due to her tears. Part of Jaime wanted to pull back, due to the fact his wife needed comfort right now, not sex. Yet Brienne was touching his face so softly, that it made Jaime realise this _was_ comfort for her, just as much as cuddles and gentle words.

"Jaime," she gasped when she pulled back, her hands dropping from his face to his shirt. Not giving him a moment of respite, Brienne gripped the material tightly. "Jaime... please. _Please._ I need to feel you. I want to feel you."

"Brienne..."

"Please," she said again, her eyes shining in the darkness. "Let me be your wife."

That request hurt Jaime more than he could articulate. Had things really got so bad that Brienne struggled to feel like his wife? He rushed to reassure her. "You _are_ my wife, wench, in every sense of the word," he said heavily, the weight of the emotion in her eyes overwhelming him. "My lover. My companion. My friend. Never doubt that. Never doubt that you are everything to me. I love you so much, even if I'm not very good at expressing it sometimes."

She smiled at him through her tears. "Oh Jaime, _Jaime,_ I love you too..."

Jaime did not know quite how it happened, but in a moment, he went from comforting his wife to letting her kiss him like they were on their honeymoon; feral, fast, and passionate. Her hands jumped the buttons on his shirt and, not caring if she ripped them from the material, began pulling at them until his chest was bare for her. Pulling back from the kiss, Brienne went to appraise him.

"You've always been so handsome," she murmured, running her fingers through his chest hair. "Even if you are now going a little grey."

Jaime pulled a face. "Hey! I'm not going _that_ grey!"

"I like it," Brienne said, smiling at him teasingly. "I _love_ it. I love you."

And then Brienne was kissing his neck, his shoulders, his chest, while her hands ventured even further than her mouth. To help her, Jaime discarded both his jacket and his shirt, while she fiddled around with his flies. Once they were undone, Jaime noticed that Brienne was whispering little endearments between her kisses, and they were so sweet that he fell back on the bed, glad to just let her worship him.

"Oh sweetheart, Jaime..." _Kiss._

"I love you, I love you, I love--" _Kiss._

"I adore the way your chest hair curls, it's so..." _Kiss._

Before long, Brienne had Jaime stripped down to his underwear, and was gazing down at him with such love and devotion that he had to sit up to kiss her, unzipping her dress as he did so. "Wench," he murmured against her lips as he slipped the straps of her dress over her shoulders, revealing her chest. While he had always greatly appreciated her small, perky tits, there was something about her new curves that he liked too, so he lifted his hands to touch her breasts. Of course, he had forgotten he was wearing his prosthetic, so instead of tenderly caressing her, it was more like a punch.

"Sorry wench, I'll take it off, I'll..."

Brienne kissed him to silence him. "Let me help you, let me..."

Before Jaime could stop her, Brienne had gently taken off his prosthetic and put it on the bedside table. She then helped him take her own clothes off, until they were equally naked and exposed. Although Jaime had always known that Brienne was strong and tough, with her swollen belly, puffy lips from kissing, and her teary eyes, she had never seemed so vulnerable. Consequently, Jaime felt it was only right to pull back the covers of the bed and encourage her beneath them. The idea clearly excited her, as Brienne smiled at him nervously and then acquiesced to his suggestion. Once she was lying on her side, he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, snuggling under the blankets and pulling her close. There was no doubt she could feel his hardness pressed into the cleft of her arse.

"Brienne," he whispered, dropping his hand between her thighs so he could touch her just the way she liked. Although it was a little difficult to navigate around her belly, the second his fingers brushed her sensitive, heated flesh, Brienne gasped. "Tell me what you want. I want to look after you, protect you, make you feel good."

Pulling one leg up, she rested the flat of her foot against the mattress, giving Jaime total access. "Your fingers... and then you, I want you, I want you inside me, I've missed... _oh."_

Jaime obeyed at once. As he began to stroke her, Brienne made a keening sound, but he did not pick up the pace. Instead, he continued to tease her, moving his fingers in slow torturous circles. "Wench," he murmured against her ear as he put his fingers inside her, pumping them in a way that was imitative of what his cock was soon to do. "I love you... I won't let anyone hurt you... I'll fucking kill anyone who hurts you..."

Brienne reached back and grasped his hip, encouraging him to rut against her. The friction it provided pushed Jaime perilously close to the edge. "Jaime... fuck me... please... I miss you so much, I want you so much... please... _please_..."

She turned her head in an attempt to kiss him, and her impassioned need for closeness made all Jaime's defences and insecurities fall away. Moving his hand, he grasped hold of his cock and nudged it between her legs. Brienne pushed back against him, and let out a moan of something that sounded like relief as he slid inside her.

"Jaime," she panted against his cheek, as he began to thrust inside her, anchoring himself with his hand on her hip. "Jaime, _yes..._ I've wanted this so long, I've wanted..."

The sheer joy in her voice at their coupling made a lump bloom in Jaime's throat. How could he have been so resistant to this? "This is so good, wench, I've missed this too, I've missed you, I'm sorry, I'm--"

Before he could properly voice his apologies, Brienne began to give him an open mouthed kiss that was a little awkward to angle, but Jaime nevertheless loved. That she was so desperate to touch him, to hold him, to kiss him, made Jaime move faster and faster inside her. He was so close to coming, so perilously close, that he thought he should slow down, should think more about her pleasure, more about _her,_ but he was conscious that Brienne was enjoying this too. The evidence was in the way that she came so suddenly - squeezing his cock tightly with her cunt as she did so - that Jaime was almost surprised when he fell over the precipice with her immediately after. The energy left him in one long, hot burst, then he slumped against her satiated and exhausted.

In the afterglow, their bodies stuck together with sweat and cum, but it felt so supremely perfect that Jaime concluded that heaven itself must have nothing on lying with Brienne. Closing his eyes, he listened to her breathing slow. It was the most soothing sound in the world.

"Thank you," she mumbled, kissing his cheek before turning away from him so she could snuggle into the curve of his body more easily. "Thank you."

Burying his face in the crook of her neck, Jaime found himself shaking his head. "Don't thank me, wench. I'm sorry we haven't done this sooner. I was just concerned it would hurt you."

"Hurt me?" she asked confusedly. "Why would you think it would hurt me?"

He smiled against her skin. "It doesn't matter now. Just know I love you and I won't let anything come between us. I won't let anyone ruin this family we've worked so hard for."

"But..."

"Hush," he said, not wanting her to think of anything other than this arms around her; not Howland's grisly death, nor worries about the baby, and especially not Melara. "Sleep, wench. Sleep."

Acquiescing to his request, Brienne burrowed into his back and curled herself around her belly - around _their_ baby - then allowed Jaime to wrap himself protectively around her. Normally, it was Jaime who was the little spoon, but there was something so immensely vulnerable about Brienne during her pregnancy, that he was quite willing to be her armour and her shield.

"I won't let anyone hurt you," he whispered into her hair. Jaime doubted she could hear him, given that she was already letting out contented little snores, but the point stood all the same. While he doubted this vindictive little note could truly be from Melara, he would not let her ghost ruin everything he and Brienne were trying to build. She did not need this stress on top of her pregnancy, especially considering what stress could do to heavily pregnant women, how it could make the birth more dangerous, how it could...

Although Brienne was in his arms, Jaime slept fitfully that night. In his dreams he saw his mother, her hands coated red with blood and her eyes sad. With her was Melara, holding a knife, her eyes alight just as they had been that night at Casterly Rock. And then there was Brienne. She was weeping and calling out to him, but no matter how much Jaime ran in order to reach her, she always flitted out of his reach.

"Help me, Jaime!" she called, clutching her stomach. "Help me! Help me! Help me!"

Jaime opened his eyes and the dream had been so vivid it took a few moments for him to realise where he was. Brienne was lying next to him on the bed, her back pushed against his chest, her breathing slow and regular. Enough light was breaking into the room through the thin curtains to tell him that it was early morning. Very distantly, Jaime could hear the birds singing.

 _Morning,_ he thought, _and we survived the night._

Wanting to feel alive, he stretched as he stood up, determined to shake away the dark hangover of his dreams. However, he was quickly pulled back to the fact they were rooted in reality when he noticed the _Dear Bitch_ letter lying on the floor. It had clearly been discarded in their hurry to lose their clothes the previous night. Jaime picked it up and momentarily considered tearing it to shreds, but then remembered that Brienne would get quite irate at him for destroying evidence. Still, he did not want her dwelling on it, so shoved it in the bedside drawer where she couldn't see it. From there, he walked across the room to the window and pulled the curtains open. He was in for quite a shock.

From where Jaime was standing, it seemed as if _The Winterfell Hotel_ and all its guests were trapped in a snow globe that had just been shaken up, as the blizzard outside was so violent that Jaime barely even see a few feet outside the window, let alone the views of Winter Town. If it had been difficult for the local police to get to the hotel the night before, it would be near impossible now.

 _Great, just great,_ thought Jaime bitterly. _There is a murderer inside these walls, my stalker has made herself known once more, and I have no way of making sure my wife and baby are safe. Just perfect._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! As ever, I would love to hear what you think in a comment or kudo!
> 
> Next chapter... the Casterly Constabulary start to investigate Howland's death...


	13. The Defenestration of Winterfell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne and Jaime begin to investigate Howland's death...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god. I'm sorry. I don't really have an excuse as to why this is so late (just life being full of huge pressures atm). I hope I can update more regularly from now on.

When Brienne woke up the next morning, her heart was lighter than it had been in weeks. Although her bed was empty, she could hear Jaime in the next room having a shower and this time there was no _Do Not Disturb_ sign on the door.

 _Thank god,_ she thought. _Thank god._

In spite of the threatening letter from a possible stalker, the previous night had been wonderful. Jaime had let her near in a way he had not in months, and she felt as if they were growing closer than they had been at least since she fell pregnant. Although they had not talked everything out yet - sex had managed to get in the way of Jaime confessing to the root cause of some of his anxieties - Brienne knew it was only a matter of time. Throughout their marriage, it was the occasions on which their sex life had been out of sync that their relationship had struggled, so now it was back on track she was confident she could sort things out.

Given everything that had happened, Brienne felt no qualms in slipping from the bed and sneaking into the bathroom totally naked. The room was full of steam, so she could just see Jaime's silhouette through the dappled glass of the shower. At the sight, her throat went dry; Jaime had always been extraordinarily beautiful. Her heart warmed as she drew closer and heard that Jaime was humming to himself, entirely off key and in a way that almost sounded like a cat being strangled. It made Brienne smile; she really did love every single one of his imperfections. He only stopped his tuneless reverie when Brienne opened the shower door and climbed in beside him.

"Ah!" he squawked, dropping the soap. "You scared the shit out of me!"

Brienne giggled. "Sorry. I just felt like I needed a shower... but you were already in here."

Shaking his head in amusement, Jaime knelt down to pick up the soap. Sensing her opportunity, Brienne rested her hand on his shoulder, a mischievous plan forming in her mind. Jaime looked up at her, his eyes bright.

"What are you doing, wench?" he asked, his voice gravelly.

Wanting to tease him, Brienne shrugged as if she was not planning anything at all. "Just thinking of last night... and how much fun it was... and that we have some time until we need to meet the others... so I thought you might want to eat something before breakfast."

His eyes lit up. "Brienne, you bad girl..."

"What?" she grinned, feeling more excited than she had in a long time. "I am feeling in a reciprocal mood."

Although it was a little awkward in the small hotel shower, Jaime managed to warm Brienne up very quickly by planting a teasing trail of kisses across the sensitive patches of soft skin around where she wanted him most. Only when she had her hands in his hair and was begging did Jaime begin to lick her clit, and it pushed Brienne closer towards the edge so violently that she could not help but cry out.

"Jaime," she moaned, moving her hips in needy little thrusts as he pumped his fingers inside her. "Oh god, I love you... Jaime... _fuck yes!_ "

Once Brienne had come around his fingers, her whole body shuddering with her release, she helped Jaime to his feet then tried to work out the best way to suck his cock given the small space and the fact she was heavily pregnant.

"Don't," Jaime murmured, when Brienne began to duck down. "I don't want you putting pressure on your poor knees."

Brienne pouted at him. "But I want to reciprocate. I want to give you pleasure."

"Oh, don't worry, I want that too," Jaime smirked, in a way that was simultaneously infuriating and adorable. "It's just I would prefer it if you got handsy... and if you kissed me."

Although Brienne had been quite looking forward to giving Jaime a sloppy blowjob, she adhered to her husband's wishes. Leaning in, she kissed him gently, then began to stroke his length with one hand, cupping his balls with the other. He let out a soft moan.

"Sweetheart," purred Brienne, watching as her every movement caused Jaime's expression to flicker with pleasure. "Do you like that?"

"Yes... _oh..._ yes."

They stayed in the shower much longer than either of them intended, until Brienne had made Jaime come with her hands, then pressed him into the tiled wall with hot and fevered kisses until he was so overcome with bliss that he looked more relaxed than she had seen him in weeks. She almost forgot they had a potential murder case to deal with, as well as the possible return of her husband's stalker.

_Almost._

"I suppose we should probably get dressed and go to breakfast," mumbled Brienne into Jaime's cheek as he hugged her from behind after they had both finished. "We have a lot of investigating to do today."

Jaime let out a little laugh. "The Brienne Tarth I first met would be kicking me out of this shower and telling me I had a _duty_ to fulfil, not saying she _supposed_ we should get to work."

"The Brienne Tarth you first met would not even be in this shower with you," she teased back. "So consider yourself lucky."

"I do, wench," he said softly, before kissing her. "I do."

It was a few more minutes before either of them found the willpower to get out the shower.

* * *

Due to their shower shenanigans, Jaime and Brienne were the last ones down to breakfast in _The Winter Rose_ that morning, a fact that made Sansa shout out.

"Where have you two been?" she called, before scooping a spoonful of beans into her mouth. "Anybody would have thought you overslept."

"We were just a little sleepy," Brienne lied. "Last night was eventful."

She was talking about the potential murder, but all her friends seemed to read into her statement as they all joined in with Sansa's laughing.

Robb Stark snorted. "Yeah, and not because someone fell from a balcony. I thought I told the two of you to keep it down?"

Brienne shot a look at Jaime, who was looking a little guilty. "We _did_ keep it down. At least... we tried to..."

"The wall between our bathrooms is apparently very thin," smiled Margaery cheekily, before taking a sip of orange juice. "There's a warning for you next time."

While Brienne went a heated red and took her seat, Jaime decided to fight back. "Or maybe you and Robb should try an early morning surprise. It's very good for your stress levels, and..."

Shaking his head, Tyrion interrupted his brother's rambling. "As usual, I do not want to discuss your sex life, Jaime, but I _do_ want to know whether I can go and make use of the Hot Springs today, or if I am banned because of police activity."

Everyone turned to look at Brienne. She adopted her Chief Inspector hat at once. "That shouldn't be a problem. We didn't find the dead body in the Hot Springs, and we made sure the crime scene and all the important sites were cordoned off yesterday. The only difficulty will come if local police want to do a more thorough lockdown of the site when they arrive. Has anyone been in contact with them?"

"The Hound called them this morning," said Margaery, "but apparently the weather is too bad for them to get here, so they've asked we manage everything until it clears up. It's not like any of us can leave the hotel, anyway, given the blizzard."

While one part of Brienne was excited to have a mystery to solve, another was regretting the opportunity to spend time with Jaime in a beautiful hotel. He seemed to sense her mood, so he leant across and kissed her temple.

"I'm going to go get some food from the buffet. Do you want me to grab you some?"

She squeezed his hand. "Yes, that would be lovely."

After another quick kiss, Jaime dashed off towards the buffet, leaving Brienne once more in charge of managing the rest of the Constabulary's activities.

"Well, if the Winter Town Constabulary cannot be here to help us, we are going to have to do this ourselves," said Brienne, turning to Robb and Margaery in particular. "Jon sent me Meera and Jojen's interview, so I will go through it myself. From there, we've got to go and deal with the body. We can't do much without a forensics expert, but we can at least take some pictures and send them to the team in Winter Town to get a rough idea what is going on here. From there, we just need to do an analysis of the crime scene itself, which means both the area around the Tower and the probable place from which he fell; the Library balcony. The most important thing at the stage is to gather physical evidence that will determine what happened to Howland. Did he fall? Or was he pushed?"

"Is there any use us questioning more of the guests?" asked Robb Stark, buttering his toast. "We need to conclusively work out who was in the building last night, and if there was anyone suspicious hanging about."

At Robb's question, Brienne's mind instantly went to Melara. There was no doubt in her mind that, if she was in _The Winterfell Hotel,_ then Melara would definitely be a suspicious person to consider in this whole mess. And yet Brienne could not help but conclude if Melara was lurking, and that the letter had not been a forgery, why would she bother murdering Howland Reed? It was Jaime she wanted, not anybody else.

As if summoned by that thought, Jaime then appeared with two Full English Breakfasts balanced precariously on his prosthetic. While making chiding little noises and telling him he should not have rushed, Brienne took the breakfasts from him.

"It's fine, I got here in one piece," he said, taking his seat beside her as he slung an arm around her shoulder. "What are we talking about?"

"Mayhem and murder," said Margaery, flicking her honey-coloured hair over her shoulder. "And how to deal with it. Brienne was just outlining all the tasks the Constabulary need to get on top of after breakfast."

As Brienne leant across to cut up Jaime's bacon for him, he answered Margaery. "Cool. What do you need me to do, Chief?"

"I was thinking of sending you off with Robb Stark and Margaery to investigate the library, while Robb Arryn and Jon can go and check out Howland's body. I expect most of the physical evidence from outside would have been destroyed by the snow storm - lucky we took some pictures when we did, really - so the Hound, Pod, and Arya can go and collect a full list of guests from reception, then do the rounds to see if anyone spotted anything useful."

"What are you going to do, Brienne?" Jaime asked, taking his cutlery from her once she had finished with the bacon.

"Go back to the room and listen to Jojen and Meera's interview, then I'll do a sweep round all the teams to see how everything is going."

Jaime put down his fork so he could reach out and put his hand on her thigh. "Don't push yourself too hard. You are pregnant."

"I won't. I just want to make sure that we discover what happened to Howland Reed... and that there were no mysterious people sneaking around the hotel."

Sensing that she was talking about Melara, Jaime narrowed his eyes at her. "I'm sure there aren't. Although there might be people playing games."

"You think someone is playing games?" asked Robb Stark, totally oblivious to the subtext about Melara. "Because if this was a murder, it doesn't look very pre-meditated to me. Surely there is a better way to kill someone rather than shoving him off a balcony?"

Not wanting to get into another discussion with Jaime about the identity of the letter writer, Brienne turned to Robb and put on her Chief Inspector's hat.

"Well, whatever happened to Howland, it is our job to find out."

* * *

After breakfast, the Casterly Constabulary went their separate ways in order to investigate Howland's death. Although Jaime put up his objections and asked to go with Brienne, she shook her head then gave him a quick kiss to silence him.

"I'll come and find you shortly," Brienne promised him, squeezing his hand, "but I do have to go and listen to Meera and Jojen Reed's interview. I'll see you in a bit."

In spite of Jaime's pouting, in the end, Brienne was not separated from him and the others for long. As she returned to Room 69 to listen to the recording Jon had made of his interview with Jojen and Meera, she discovered they had not had much contact with their father the previous evening and, therefore, there was not much to be gleaned from their testimony.

" _Dad had been in a strange mood ever since we arrived at the Winterfell,"_ came Jojen's voice from the phone. " _So Meera and I mainly hung around with Bran. That is why we weren't even with him in the bar."_

 _"Why do you think he was in a strange mood?"_ Jon asked, as his movement of the recording equipment sent a static crackle across the scene.

Brienne could almost hear Meera's shrug. _"I don't know, but he has been a little off since all the stuff about Aerys Targaryen and his heirs came on TV."_

 _"Aerys Targaryen and his heirs?"_ questioned Jon. _"Who are they?"_

 _"This gangster called Aerys Targaryen recently died and left his fortune not to his only surviving daughter, but to his grandson through his eldest son, Rhaegar, who is dead,"_ replied Meera. _"My dad was always interested in organised crime, even after he quit the police force, and for some reason that case was just agitating him."_

_"Did he talk to the two of you about Aerys Targaryen while you were at the hotel?"_

_"No,"_ interjected Jojen. _"He only had time to talk about Lyanna. Apparently, he really wanted to speak to her. I think he might have been looking for her before the ceremony."_

_"What for?"_

Again, Brienne could almost hear the shrugs. _"We don't know,"_ continued Jojen. _"Lyanna and my dad always used to be friends when they were kids - they used to play the Knight of the Laughing Tree together - but they hadn't seen each other for years. Dad had been wanting to talk to her ever since we arrived, but she has been so busy I don't think she had any time for him."_

 _"Or she was avoiding him,"_ added Meera, her tone tinged with suspicion.

The interview did not glean many more details but, once it had finished, Brienne reached for the writing pad and pencil next to the landline phone and made some notes based on everything she had learnt so far.

> **Howland Reed**
> 
> \- Interested in the Aerys Targaryen case
> 
> \- Wanted to speak to Lyanna
> 
> **Wylla Armstrong**
> 
> \- Discovered Howland's body while checking the crypts.
> 
> \- Close friends with Lyanna.
> 
> \- Knows the reason Lyanna left university. Won't tell.
> 
> **Lyanna Stark**
> 
> \- Hotel owner.
> 
> \- Howland wanted to speak with her on the night he died.
> 
> **Melara Hetherspoon?**
> 
> \- Left a note directed at me.
> 
> \- Jaime thinks it is a forgery.

She thought about looking for the note - Jaime had clearly hidden it - in order to read it again, but quickly put aside that idea. Reading her own notes again, Brienne realised there was absolutely no connection between Melara and the web around Howland, Lyanna, and Wylla.

 _I should focus on the task at hand,_ she told herself. _It is Howland I should seek justice for, not myself._

Resolving not to look for the letter, Brienne left the hotel room to go in search of her colleagues.

* * *

When Brienne arrived at the library, she found that the analysis of the area was already underway by Jaime, Robb Stark, and Margaery. The three of them had made make-shift forensics PPE from bin bags and rubber gloves they had taken from the kitchens and were already working across the room - a mid-size room with walls lined with books and filled with tables surrounded by chairs for reading - carefully taking photos. Jaime's face brightened the moment he saw Brienne.

"Hey, wench," he smiled, lowering his phone. "How was Jojen and Meera's interview? Illuminating?"

"Not particularly," replied Brienne, as she reached for the roll of bin bags by the door and began to fashion her own protective suit. "It seems neither of them really spoke to their father last night, although they _did_ say he was agitated to talk to Lyanna. What have you guys found here?"

She expected Jaime to answer her, but instead Robb piped up. "A few things. Firstly, we think there was evidence of a struggle."

"A struggle?" answered Brienne, surprised.

"Yep, the chair closest to the door leading to the balcony was found on its side," said Robb, as Margaery handily pointed it out. "Although we can't do a forensic examination off it, it wouldn't surprise me if we found Howland's fingerprints on it. It seems likely he grabbed hold of it before being dragged to the door leading out to the balcony."

Brienne furrowed her brow. That was decidedly more dramatic than she had imagined. "What makes you think that?"

"Well," said Margaery, taking over from Robb, "there are also books that seem to have been pulled off the shelves, and the chair is facing the door. Why would all that be out of place without a struggle?"

"We also found a blood splatter on the carpet," Jaime said, pointing to a red patch by the balcony doors, "but again, without forensics, we cannot determine whether it is Howland's blood or someone else's entirely."

"Like who? An attacker?" asked Brienne.

Jaime nodded. "In the absence of proper forensic analysis, our biggest evidence for Howland being attacked is outside. Come with me."

At Jaime's instruction, Brienne followed him, Margaery, and Robb outside onto the balcony. In the summer, Brienne could see how the space would be a beautiful location to sit and look at the views of Winter Town, but in the biting snowy weather, it was a death sentence to be out here more than two minutes. Nevertheless, the four of them braved the cold and walked towards the edge of the balcony, as Jaime pointed out at the outline just visible in the snow below.

"Do you see that, wench?" said Jaime. "That is where Howland's body was found. Pod and Arya put the markers down last night."

Brienne squinted at it confusedly; there was something amiss. "That is quite far away."

"That is what we thought," replied Margaery, holding her hand over her eyes to shield them from the show. "If Howland had jumped, surely he would have landed closer to the tower. In contrast, if he was pushed, he would likely have been projected outwards, landing just in the position outlined below."

Brienne considered that argument for a moment, imagining a shadow falling into a snow drift, and had to conclude that her colleagues was right. Howland would have had to have jumped very far to land where he did, whereas being pushed would explain the distance.

"Do we have any idea who could have done this?" asked Brienne, thinking that Howland would have had to be attacked by a man, or a group of men, stronger than himself in order to be thrown from the tower.

Jaime gestured to Brienne, and the group followed him back inside. "We only really have one clue of anyone's presence in the room, other than Howland himself."

"And what is that?" asked Brienne.

Once the door to the balcony was closed, Jaime pointed back towards a chair on the other side of the room. For the first time, she noticed there was a plain, black handbag on it. It demonstrated that someone had been in the library the previous evening before the police had locked it down, and likely not long before. A handbag often contained vital personal belongings; its owner would not like to be parted from it for long.

"Do we know whose that is?" she questioned, stepping forward.

Margaery shook her head. "No, we didn't want to open it until we had your permission, Chief."

"Have you taken photos of its original positioning?"

"Yes," confirmed Margaery.

"Well then," smiled Brienne, excitement bubbling in the pit of her stomach. "Let's see what is inside."

With her Chief's permission, Margaery picked up the handbag and took it over to a nearby table, Brienne, Robb, and Jaime following in her wake. Once there, she upturned the handbag, and a few items fell out; a pack of tissues, a dark lipstick, mints, and a purse. Picking up the purse, Margaery inspected it, letting out a little gasp as she did so.

"What is it?" asked Jaime, leaning forward to have a look.

Margaery did not answer but pulled out the driver's license she found inside. A hush descended across the small group when they saw the photo of the dark haired woman printed on the side in unmistakeable black and white.

"Do we think this means my Aunt Lyanna was here when Howland died?" asked Robb Stark, horrified.

Brienne swallowed heavily, staring down at Lyanna's few belongings. "I don't know, but considering we have found this and Jojen and Meera said Howland wanted to talk to her, if there is one thing that I am sure of... she is now officially a person of interest."

* * *

Wanting to squeeze out every last detail that could help them work out what happened to Howland, Brienne, Jaime, Robb Stark, and Margaery kept taking photos of the crime scene and cataloguing details until lunchtime, when they decided to take a break and go in search of some food.

"I'll catch you up in a moment," said Brienne to Jaime as she removed her protective gear in the hallway outside the library. "I want to go back and freshen up."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, don't worry," Brienne replied, reaching out to gently brush his cheek. "I won't be long. I'll meet you down in the restaurant."

The group then split up - Robb, Margaery, and Jaime going one way, Brienne the other - but she did not even make it to her room before she was interrupted.

"Ah, Chief Inspector Lannister-Tarth!"

Brienne turned around to find Sarah Lemore - the platinum blonde reporter of _The Casterly Citizen_ \- jogging up behind her with an intrigued smile on her face.

"Inspector Lannister-Tarth!"

Brienne plastered on a smile as she ground to a halt. She had a natural distrust of journalists. "Hello, I--"

"Sarah Lemore of _The Casterly Citizen,"_ she said as she stretched her hand out for Brienne to take. She took it tentatively, slightly unnerved by Sarah's forward manner and her unnatural looking eyes. "We have spoken before. I contacted you about Ned's ceremony."

"Yes, of course. How could I forget?"

Sarah shrugged. "Don't worry. I just seem to have one of those faces that everybody finds completely forgettable."

Although Sarah was smiling at Brienne warmly, Casterly's Chief Inspector could not help but feel a little distrustful. With the mystery of Howland's death looming over her head, Brienne could not quite bring herself to trust anyone yet and that included this friendly journalist.

"How can I help you?" asked Brienne, putting on her best _caring for the community face._

"I just thought you and I could share information."

Brienne furrowed her brow. "On what?"

"Howland Reed, of course," said Sarah, her eyes glittering as she pulled a notepad and pen from her bag. "While we are all snowed in here, I thought it was only right I try to work out how the poor man came to his untimely end. You must also be doing the same, so I thought we could share what we have found."

Brienne's displeasure showed on her face. "I am a police officer conducting a significant inquiry. You are a journalist. We are not the same."

Sarah smiled and rested her hand on Brienne's shoulder. It was clearly meant to be an ingratiating gesture, but Casterly's Chief Inspector was not moved. "Of course not, Brienne, but I _do_ know things about this hotel... things that perhaps aren't immediately apparent."

Brienne's hackles were raised at once. "Things? What things?"

"Well, for one thing," began Sarah slowly, dangling her knowledge in front of Brienne until she had no choice but to take it. "How do we know that everyone in the hotel last night was accounted for?"

That question felt sharp considering the letter from Melara. "What do you mean?"

Sarah dropped her from Brienne's shoulder and raised an eyebrow, arching it so perfectly it momentarily looked like animation. "Well... the crypts contain tunnels that lead out into Winter Town. Who knows who snuck into the hotel while everyone's backs were turned?"

Brienne's logic told her that was an irrational suggestion - the crypts had been checked several times - but her traitorous heart beat with fear all the same. Melara Hetherspoon could have wormed her way inside the hotel, then settled down like a tropical beetle to slip its way into an unsuspecting victim's bloodstream and lay her eggs, waiting for the chaos and paranoia they would unleash.

Lost in her fears, Brienne did not immediately respond to Sarah, meaning the journalist gave her an understanding smile and put away her notebook, clearly accepting that she was not going to get anything she wanted.

"It was good to speak to you, Brienne," she said, flicking her bleach blonde hair over her shoulder. "If you change your mind about everything, remember; if you scratch my back, I can certainly scratch yours."

Sarah gave Brienne one more glittering smile, before turning away and disappearing down the corridor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I would love to hear what you think.


	14. The Wild Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Casterly Constabulary go to interview Lyanna...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, I'm sorry this has been so long. Life is a rollercoaster at the moment.
> 
> Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy!

Over lunch, the conversation between members of the Casterly Constabulary was entirely on Howland Reed and the rapidly growing possibility that this was a murder case. While Jaime was happy that Brienne had something to focus on, he could not help but worry that she was becoming a little _too_ focussed in that way she was prone to do. Soon, it would be all _Howland, Howland, Howland,_ and her own problems and concerns would be buried under the needs of other people.

"But who would push him?" asked Arya as she took a sip of her orange juice. "Howland was a great guy and so are Meera and Jojen. He didn't have a bad word to say about anybody. Why would anyone hurt him?"

Brienne glanced at Jaime - they had agreed they would keep what they suspected about Lyanna until they had spoken to the woman herself - but her moment's hesitation did not stop her from laying out at least some of the facts.

"I don't know, but we at least have some interesting leads," she said, totally ignoring her food in order to talk about Howland. "I think the Constabulary seriously have to up our questioning of the guests, given what limited things we can do with forensics."

"What do you want us to do, boss?" asked Podrick.

As she had previously, Brienne set about dividing the Casterly Constabulary into small groups to go and collect testimonies from guests at the hotel. "The only change from earlier is that I would like Jon to come with me and Jaime to interview Lyanna."

From the other side of the table, Jon stopped eating his yoghurt. "You want me to come and interview Lyanna with you? Why?"

"Well," said Brienne, suddenly looking quite conspiratorial. "Lyanna seems to... _like_ you, Jon. And I want to persuade her to open up, you might do just that."

"She likes me?" said Jon confusedly, "but I barely know her."

Robb Arryn let out a mocking laugh. "It is obvious she thinks you are hot; it is quite sickening."

Jaime rolled his eyes. Robb Arryn always had a way to lower the tone with an inappropriate comment and a smirk.

Jon blushed. "How did you come to that conclusion?" he asked, looking a little uncomfortable.

"Have you not noticed the way she hangs on your every word?" said Robb Arryn, leaning back in his chair and resting his head in the cup of his joined hand. "How her eyes light up when she looks at you?"

Jon pulled a sullen expression. "No..."

"Well then, you are blind, because she does!"

"I am not asking Jon to come with Jaime and I because Lyanna thinks he's _hot,_ " said Brienne, irritated. Jaime could tell that his wife had her Chief Inspector hat on, so did not appreciate any light hearted ribbing. "Lyanna has seemed to have taken a shine to Jon, that's all, and we would be remiss not to use that."

"That is very sneaky of you, wench," interjected Jaime with a smile. "I didn't realise you were so Machiavellian!"

For the first time since they started discussing Howland, the corners of her mouth turned up in a smile. "There is always a first time." She tilted her head towards the door, half an instruction, half a dare. "Come, we should fine Lyanna."

* * *

It took a little while for Jaime, Brienne, and Jon to get up to Lyanna's office, given that Jon was on crutches, but they got there eventually. The slow walk allowed Jaime to appreciate how empty the hotel had become after Howland's death; although nobody could leave, most people were taking the opportunity to keep to their rooms.

 _Maybe they're feeling scared,_ thought Jaime. _Maybe they're feeling guilty._

When the three members of the Casterly Constabulary arrived at Lyanna's office, they found her standing outside her door with Theon. They were leaning towards each other as they spoke, their voices hushed.

"I want the CCTV checked to see if anyone... ah, Chief Inspector Lannister-Tarth," said Lyanna, her pale face as white as the moon in the dim light of the hallway. "I was wondering if I would see you today."

Brienne gave her a professional smile. "As you know, the Casterly Constabulary are quite dedicated to finding out what happened to Howland Reed... at least until the weather clears and we can get more support from the Winter Town Constabulary."

"Of course," replied Lyanna cordially. "Do you wish to speak to Theon or me?"

"You. Sergeant Lannister-Tarth, Constable Snow, and I have some questions to ask you." She gestured to Jaime and Jon. "Would we be able to talk in your office?"

Lyanna nodded slowly, as her eyes drifted to Jon. "Of course. I would be delighted. Come this way." She went to direct them into her office, immediately putting a hand on Jon's shoulder, before remembering Theon existed. "Theon, if you could do those things for me, and then I will see you later."

"Yes, Ma’am," said Theon. He then directed a lazy wave towards Jaime, Jon, Brienne, and Lyanna, and began to walk down the hall. While both Jaime and Brienne answered with an equally lazy wave, Lyanna and Jon did not as they were already disappeared inside the office.

"Maybe Other Robb was right," Jaime muttered in Brienne's ear. "Maybe Lyanna _does_ fancy Jon."

Brienne let out a breath of laughter. "I don't think she does, but there is no doubt she _likes_ him."

With matching smirks on their faces, Jaime and Brienne entered Lyanna's office. Jon was already seated on the one chair apart from the main seat behind Lyanna's desk, and she was pouring him a drink of water from her cooler. Jaime could not help but feel a little amused at the way Jon was looking at Lyanna; maybe he was also worried that what Other Robb said about Lyanna was true.

"Would either of you like a water?" asked Lyanna, as she handed the plastic cup to Jon.

"Brienne would," piped up Jaime, which just earned him a cross look from his wife. "What, wench? You are pregnant!"

"I know, but..."

"I'll get you some water," said Lyanna, obviously sensing the slight tension. "And you, Sergeant Lannister-Tarth."

Jaime smiled, even as Brienne continued to look a little sullen. "And would you mind if Brienne took _your_ chair? Jon obviously need one because of his leg, but Brienne is also pregnant..."

Before Brienne could cut across Jaime with another insistent remark about how she was _perfectly capable_ and that she was _pregnant not dead,_ Lyanna had water on the desk for them all and had scooted her chair round next to Jon. Having little choice, Brienne went to sit in it, trying to look professional as she did so. As the chess pieces moved into place, Jaime went to stand behind Jon and Brienne, resting his hand on the back of his wife's chair, while Lyanna perched on the edge of desk, smiling brightly.

"What can I do for you, officers?" Lyanna asked.

At once, the interviewing plan they had formed on the way up came into effect. Brienne retrieved her phone from her pocket and started the recording, stating the time the place, and all the people presence, while Jon gazed at Lyanna with his big dark eyes.

"Could you please tell us your movements on the evening of Saturday 18th November 2023?"

At that question Lyanna's smile dimmed somewhat. "I was here at the hotel. I was very busy because of the Award Ceremony - it was a big evening for the hotel, and I wanted everything to run smoothly - so I was all over the place. You and I even had a conversation, Chief Inspector Lannister-Tarth."

Jaime stole a glance at Brienne, suddenly remembering that he had witnessed her and Lyanna talking in the bar. Given that they had been fighting at the time, Jaime wondered whether they had been discussing him.

"I know, but if you could give me a neat rundown of where you were last night, that would be very helpful to our investigation. Why don't you start with the arrival of Barristan Selmy yesterday lunch? I remember seeing you in the bar."

Lyanna looked up at the ceiling as she thought, her long dark hair falling in a cascade around her shoulder. Although Brienne was the light of his world, in that moment Jaime could sense the natural allure Lyanna possessed. In spite of her buttoned up power suit, there was something of the wild about her.

"Well," began Lyanna, thinking back, "after Barristan arrived at _The Winterfell,_ he, Catelyn, Howland, and I stayed in the bar for a little while just discussing old times."

"How long did that last?" asked Brienne, as Jaime remembered how Brienne had lured him away from the bar and back to their hotel room, with promises of _relaxing_ and _spending time together._

Lyanna clearly did not have such fond memories of her conversation with Barristan, however. "Not long, maybe twenty minutes or so. Barristan has a way of turning the conversation onto uncomfortable topics."

"Like what?" Jaime asked, his interest piqued.

"Ashara Dayne, for one," said Lyanna. The mention of that woman's name clearly caused her disquiet, as she folded her arms across her chest. "Back in the day, Barristan had quite a _thing_ for Ashara, even though she never saw much in him."

The discomfort surrounding Ashara clearly interested Brienne, as she rocked forward in her chair slightly, leaning over her belly. "Why would that make discussing Ashara uncomfortable? Surely Barristan's crush would have been water under the bridge years ago?"

Lyanna sighed. "Ashara was Arthur Dayne's younger sister. Do you remember me telling you that Arthur was in the car with my brother Brandon when their car rolled off the road?"

"Yes?" replied Brienne.

Jaime remembered it too. Although he had only been young at the time, Arthur and Brandon's death had been huge news in Casterly. Given that, at the time, the town was ruled by Tywin Lannister and no crime _ever_ occurred, their deaths were a shock.

"Well, after Arthur died, Ashara had some sort of breakdown and retreated from the world. Some say she went to stay at Starfall in Winter Town, but nobody really knows. Although Ned tried to get in contact with her, she would not see anybody, and ended up moving away."

"When was this?" asked Brienne.

Lyanna answered at once. "August 1993."

"Hey!" said Jon, perking up for the first time since the recording started. "That was the month I was born."

Lyanna turned to look at him, and there was a strange warmth in her gaze that even Jaime could feel. "Yes, it was," she said, smiling. "I remember you telling me that was when my brother Ned found you in the car on the way to _The Winterfell."_

"Yes, I..."

"I am sorry Jon, but it is important to focus on the topic at hand," said Brienne. Jaime could almost hear _Howland, Howland, Howland_ thrumming in the air. "So, you left Barristan, Catelyn, and Howland in the bar after around twenty minutes or so. Did Howland try to follow you?"

Lyanna turned back to look at Brienne, shaking her head as she did so. "No, but he did say he looked forward to a time in which we could talk. It is a shame that did not come to pass."

"Are you saying that you did not talk to Howland all evening?"

In an immensely impressive turn, Lyanna did not even flinch as she began to lie. "No, not at all. After I left the bar, I went to help set up the chairs in the Great Hall with Theon and then gave him some errands to run."

"Would he be able to confirm this?"

"I should think so," said Lyanna with a shrug of her shoulders. "And Barbrey Dustin might be able to as well. I told Theon that he should keep an eye on her. Jory told me that he had found her trying to break into the crypts for laughs, and considering that they are highly dangerous, I did not want her wandering where she shouldn't. As far I know, Theon was diligent in his duty."

Brienne stayed silent for a moment, considering that statement, so Jaime supplied the next question. "Did you speak to anyone else before the Award Ceremony?"

"Wylla," replied Lyanna. "I told her to double check the crypts during the Award Ceremony, because I know what Barbrey is like - she would try again when she thought I was distracted - and then after I spoke to Wylla, I went upstairs to my room to get ready for the Award Ceremony. Given that I had already delegated much of the preparation, I only came down a few minutes before we spoke to each other, Sergeant Lannister-Tarth. A girl has to take time on her appearance to look her best."

"For the benefit of the recording, I would like it noted that Lyanna Stark and I discussed pregnancy, life choices, my husband, and our brothers," said Brienne, as Jaime's eyes went as large as saucers. "But then you were called away by Jory..." She gestured at Lyanna to continue the story.

"Yes, Jory told me there was a problem with Barristan's microphone. We fixed that problem, and then I stayed to watch the speeches. I was equally as shocked as everyone else when Howland was found. I had to go to my office to take a moment to myself, and I stayed there until your husband came to find me."

It would have almost been convincing if the lie wasn't so blatant.

"Lyanna," said Brienne severely, not a hint of amusement on her face. "Lying will do you no good. Everyone here knows you weren't in the Great Hall during the speeches - Jory even announced that you were indisposed on stage - so it will be better for you if you tell us where you were during the Ceremony."

"I even saw you talking with Howland in the bar," added Jaime, to give his wife extra ammunition. "So we _know_ that you did not spend your entire time helping fix Barristan's microphone."

Lyanna huffed loudly, then dropped her eyes to the floor. "Maybe I did talk to Howland in the bar, but that was all. I didn't spend any time..."

"Then why did we find your handbag in the library? The very room in which we found evidence of a struggle? And where we believe Howland was just before he fell?"

Lyanna looked up from the ground. Her eyes were bright with righteous indignation and fury. "I didn't... I wasn't... how can you accuse me?"

"We are not accusing you," said Jon softly. His gentleness settled Lyanna at once. "All we are doing is trying to find the truth, and if you can tell us what happened last night, it will help us immeasurably. Surely you want to know what happened to Howland? For his sake, if no one else."

Where Brienne's words had made Lyanna angry, Jon's seemed to make her soften like melting butter. She looked at him with her big dark eyes, appraising him for a moment, before sighing and turning back to Brienne.

"Howland and I _did_ talk last night," she admitted, every word heavy and laboured. "He had problems with his room and wanted to voice his complaints to me personally."

Jaime could not help but be surprised _that_ was the story she was going with. "Complaints?"

"Yes," said Lyanna. There was a dangerous bite in her voice. "He had problems with his room and wanted to talk somewhere private. I suggested the library."

"For complaints about his room?" asked Brienne, raising her eyebrows in surprise. "Did it need to be so private?"

Lyanna went a little red - with guilt, embarrassment, or anger Jaime didn't know - but pushed ahead with her story regardless. "Evidently, because he was quite rude about his room and the standards he had been subjected to, and wanted to lambast me, the hotel, and my staff."

Brienne wrinkled her nose. "That doesn't sound much like Howland." Jaime could not help but privately agree.

"Well that is what happened," said Lyanna fiercely, every inch the Stark wild wolf. "I eventually grew angry and stormed out - that was when I left my handbag - and went to return to the Great Hall. I was most of the way down when I realised that I had forgotten my handbag, so I returned to collect it."

"And yet we found it in the library," interjected Brienne. "Why?"

"Because I got to the library door and I discovered it was locked," parried Lyanna, seeing this less as an interview and more an interrogation with every moment. "I tried to door handle for a moment, but then I heard Howland talking inside with another man. Their voices were raised and they were arguing about something, but I couldn't hear about what."

"Who was the other man?" asked Jaime, instantly curious.

"No idea," said Lyanna, "I didn't recognise his voice. And I didn't stick around to find out. I went back to my office because I was feeling emotional about what Howland had said about me and my hotel, and I stayed there until Sergeant Lannister-Tarth came to find me."

Jaime remembered the moment he had come across Lyanna in this very room. She had been sitting on the chair behind her desk, swigging from a bottle of neat vodka. The cabinet behind her was open, revealing yet more alcohol, but she had slammed it shut the moment Jaime had entered.

"What are you doing here?" she had snapped.

"It's Howland..." Jaime had replied. "Howland Reed..."

Back in the present, Brienne shot a suspicious look at Jon and Jaime in turn, before gazing back at Lyanna, with her Chief Inspector hat firmly on her head.

"Is that all you have to tell us, Lyanna?"

The wild wolf nodded. "Yes. That is what happened. I swear it."

"Very well," said Brienne, an evident tone of scepticism colouring her words. "The interview is terminated at 2.17pm on Sunday 19th November 2023. Thank you for your time, Ms Stark."

* * *

After Jaime, Brienne, and Jon retreated from the office, they huddled together down the corridor discussing what they have just heard.

"Lyanna is lying, of course," said Jaime firmly. "It just doesn't make sense that she would walk all the way to the library to discuss Howland's complaints about the hotel. Why would she not just listen to him in the bar if that was the case?"

"And Howland never said anything about his room to anyone while alive, and Meera and Jojen haven't indicated anything like that either. If Howland wanted to talk to Lyanna about something as trivial as his hotel room, surely he would have mentioned it to his children?" added Brienne.

While Jaime was glad to be in communion with his wife - and reached out to take her hand - Jon was still a little sceptical. "I think she was telling the truth, at least about some things," he said. "Her story gives a reason for her being in the library, after all, and it can probably be partly confirmed by Theon and Wylla."

"True," conceded Brienne, resting her hand on her rounded belly as she began to think. "I just wish we had a little more to go on. If we knew why Lyanna was talking to Howland in the library, we might be able to work out what happened, and even if this mystery man is real or a cover for something else."

"It is probably a good idea if we get all the Starks together," suggested Jaime. He was unable to resist linking his arm with Brienne's. "Robb, Sansa, Arya... they might be able to tell us a little more about Lyanna, and then we can put together a clearer picture."

Brienne rested her hand on his arm. "Good thinking, Jaime. Come on. We should go back to the restaurant. Maybe the others are still there."

To their immense luck, some of the Constabulary were still lingering in _The Winter Rose_ when Jaime, Brienne, and Jon finally arrived, Jon's crutches clacking on the stone floor as he did so. Sansa and Arya were over on one of the tables chatting, while Robb was at the bar. However, it only took a sharp gesture from Brienne telling Robb to _come here_ that caused him to join his sisters and colleagues at the small table.

"Hey," said Sansa with a surprised tone, as Jon slumped down in the chair beside her and stole a sip of her garish cocktail. "What are you guys doing here? Shouldn't you be investigating?"

"We are," said Robb with a jaunty grin, as he sat down next to Arya.

As Sansa and Arya pulled slightly confused expressions, Jaime got a chair for Brienne and made sure she was sat down in it before she began on the whole, convoluted tale.

"Why do you want to talk to us?" asked Sansa, giving Brienne a blank faced stare.

Brienne stole a glance at Jaime - almost for good luck - before unveiling the news to Sansa.

"We have some reason to believe that your Aunt Lyanna might be a person of interest in this case."

Sansa's eyes went so wide they almost looked like saucers. "What?"

"I know," said Jon. "Shocking, isn't it?"

Sansa looked at both her brother, sister, and Jon in turn, before gazing back at Brienne. "I'm sorry but... _Lyanna?_ Why? What could possibly make you believe that she had something to do with Howland's death?"

"Lyanna is currently the last person we know saw him alive, and there is something a little... _fishy_ about her story," said Brienne. "She told us that she and Howland went up to the library because he had complaints about his room. I find this suspicious for two reasons; firstly, neither Jojen or Meera have mentioned Howland disliking anything about his room, and secondly, why would Lyanna leave the Great Hall, where an important event was taking place, just to go to speak to Howland in the library about his room? If they went to the library to talk, that suggests to me they wanted to discuss something important, out of the way of other guests."

Although she had initially been surprised about Brienne's suspicions of Lyanna, Sansa seemed to be settling into the group's fears, as a storm cloud grew in her eyes. "I have to agree with you. It does sound like she and Howland wanted to talk about something private."

"But what?" wondered Robb Stark aloud. "Lyanna and Howland were old friends. What would they have to fight about?"

Brienne shrugged. "I don't know, but Lyanna is sticking firmly to her story that she and Howland were not _fighting_ about anything, per se. In fact, she was trying to claim that she was not the last one to see Howland. According to her, she left Howland to return to the Award Ceremony, but then realised that she had left her handbag in the library. She returned to collect it, but heard Howland arguing with a man whose voice she did not recognise. Not having much time before the start of the speeches, she decided to come back later. Maybe that decision saved her life."

Arya made a snorting sound. "Or maybe that's a total lie."

"Arya!" squawked Sansa.

"What?" replied Arya, ready for a confrontation, "I love Lyanna, I really do, but that is the least believable story I've ever heard."

"But why would she lie unless she was the murderer?" asked Robb Stark, running his fingers through his moustache.

"Who knows?" replied Arya. "I don't think she is capable of killing Howland, but I know a lie when I hear it, and that story is a _lie."_

Sansa's expression turned downhearted. "But if Lyanna's story about this unknown man is untrue, that means she probably _was_ the last one who saw him alive, and probably _does_ know what happened to him. For her own good, she's got to tell us what happened, or otherwise she looks as guilty as hell."

"But how do we make her confess?" asked Robb Stark, gazing around at his sisters and colleagues with uncertainty.

While the other members of the Casterly Constabulary descended into a silent consideration, Jaime piped up, having latched onto an idea. "I know we haven't got much to go on, but I think it is clear that Lyanna is probably trying to hide something about her past that Howland knew. If we can get closer to working out what that thing is, we might be able to persuade her to 'fess up."

"Yes," agreed Brienne, her brow furrowed in concentration. "I think that is the only way. We are going to have to talk to people who knew her and Howland when they were young, and hopefully we may come a little closer to working out what Lyanna might be hiding."

"You could start by talking to Mum," suggested Sansa. "She's known Lyanna and Howland for years and would probably be happy to talk if it was for a good reason."

Arya nodded in agreement. "And you might be able to convince Barbrey Dustin to talk as well. I know she is a sloppy drunk, but unlike my Mum she has a loose tongue and wouldn't be afraid of giving an unvarnished view of the situation."

At Sansa and Arya's suggestions, Jaime turned back to Brienne, looking for leadership. Having something approaching a coherent plan, Brienne gave them all a confident smile, before laying out the course of action.

"I think we need to get the rest of the Constabulary together and decide how we are going to interview the guests, Barbrey and Catelyn most of..."

Brienne never got to finish her sentence, however, as at that moment she was interrupted by a loud deflating sound and then the lights going off, plunging the whole room into darkness. Jaime's chest seized with panic. The weather outside was close and gloomy, meaning the room was much more shadowed than it would otherwise be on a sunny day. His thoughts instantly went to his wife. Reaching out, Jaime took Brienne's hand, squeezing her fingers. As the room came alive with the shock and complaints of the assembled guests, Brienne leaned close to Jaime, her breath hot on his cheek.

"The power has gone out," she said.

Jaime smirked, trying to sound light-hearted. "I can see that, wench."

Yet, in his heart, Jaime felt anything but light-hearted.

He felt as if a storm had just drawn in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... what did you think? I feel there was quite a lot of information in this chapter, so I would love to hear your views in a comment or kudos :)


	15. High School Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne interview Catelyn and Barbrey while trying to find out what happened to Howland...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG, have I updated this fic? I don't know what has come over me.
> 
> ANSWER: I had a moment to myself.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

The moment the room was plunged into darkness, Sansa let out a little shriek. "Ah! What is happening?"

"The lights have gone out," said Robb Stark, demonstrating what a brilliant detective he was.

"I think it is _all_ the power, actually," said Arya. "The ambient music we've been subjected to for the last half an hour by the bar staff seems to have finally stopped too."

Cocking her head, Brienne realised Arya was right. An eerie quiet now pervaded the room, right from the ceiling to the floor. Jory Cassel, the hotel's deputy manager, was standing behind the bar replacing the filters, looking up at the small gaggle of guests scattered around the room, as if he expected them to tell him what was going on.

Compelled by the deputy manager's seeming ignorance, Jaime put a protective arm around Brienne as he turned to Jory, his expression stormy. "What has happened to the lights?" he called. "If the heating has gone off, that is not very good for my wife; she's eight months pregnant!"

"I will find out," said Jory, turning towards the door that led out of the bar. "Just give me one..."

Before he could answer, however, the doors to the outside opened and Lyanna Stark entered _The Winter Rose._ Her cheeks were a little rosier than when Brienne had last seen her, but she put that down to the cold, especially when Lyanna seemed entirely unaffected as she crossed the room, her coat billowing out behind her as if blown by the north wind.

"Did you do anything to trip the power?" she asked Jory authoritatively, as the deputy manager shook his head.

"No, I was just trying to replace the filters. I wasn't touching anything electrical."

Lyanna nodded, before turning to face everyone in the room, her expression serious but professional. "Dear Guests, I am sorry that _The Winterfell_ is currently experiencing a loss of power, but we are doing everything we can to get it up and running again." She turned to Jory, once again lowering her voice. "Do you know where Theon is? He is probably the best person to work out where this fault could..."

In a mirror of what had happened a moment before, the doors swung open again, letting in both a blast of cold air and a rather irate looking Barristan Selmy. The glow of the bright, white snow behind him framed his figure as he marched inside, his eyes fixed on Lyanna. Wolf-like, Barristan stalked his prey.

"Lyanna! I need to speak with you!" he said loudly, following the same path across the room that Lyanna had taken seconds before. "Right. Now."

Brienne glanced at Jon, who was rolling his eyes. Jaime nudged Brienne and smiled, but she just shook her head and glanced back at Barristan. Even from this distance, it was clear that something was going to go _down._ Lyanna seemed to sense it too, but she instantly put a professional smile on - sympathetic, but a little cold - and turned to Barristan. "Of course, Barristan. If you could just come through to the office with me..."

"I don't want to come through to the office with you, we all know what happen when people leave crowded places in this hotel," said Barristan gruffly. "We will speak here, and we will speak _now._ "

Although Lyanna clearly did not like being spoken to so brusquely, she nevertheless kept her smile fixed to her face. Obviously, no good would come in upsetting her most important guest.

"Of course, Barristan. What would you like to discuss?"

"I was just walking across the yard when I spotted that the power has just gone out all over the hotel," he announced, his voice loud as if he were giving some speech at a government function in the City. "I am the Minister for Justice. I can't be stuck in some miserable hotel in the middle of nowhere with no power when I should be back in London. There is a _government_ I help to run. And I especially can't be stuck in a hotel in the middle of nowhere _with no Wi-Fi."_

"I am sorry, Barristan, we are trying to get the power back on as quickly as we can. It has not even been off for a minute..."

"That is just not good enough!" Barristan growled. "I am the Minister of Justice and at the very least I need internet access if I can't get back to London. I am a member of the Cabinet! I am needed!"

As Barristan went off complaining about the snow and the cold and the lack of Wi-Fi and that he couldn't get back to London and the inadequate tea options in his room, Jon rolled his eyes and made to get up.

"I can't listen to this," he said, getting to his feet with some difficulty as he was relying on his crutch. "My leg is killing me, Howland was probably murdered, and Barristan is moaning about a lack of Wi-Fi being the worst of his problems. I need a break."

Brienne gave Jon a sympathetic smile. The pressure was on all of them to find the killer, but Jon was the only one trying to investigate while hobbling round on crutches. "Why don't you go up to your room for a bit? It might be good for you to have a rest and prop your leg up for a little while."

"But what about finding out what is going on with Lyanna?" asked Jon, leaning forward so the woman in question - who was still trying to parry Barristan's criticisms - couldn't hear them.

"Oh, don't worry about that," interjected Jaime, smiling at Jon in that carefree way that only he could. "The rest of us can go and investigate. You take it easy."

Brienne could not help but give him a reproachful look. "I'd like to remind you that _I_ am the Chief Inspector and _I_ get to decide whether members of the Constabulary can have a break."

"Can I have a break?" asked Jaime, teasingly.

"No!" Brienne nudged him sharply and fixed him with an amused grin. "You've got to work, Sergeant Lannister-Tarth. We need to go and interview Catelyn and Barbrey, and there is no possible way we can do that if the whole Constabulary are off on a break." She turned back to Jon. "Jon, why don't you have a rest? If you bump into any other members of the team on your way, let them know we will be advising people to keep to their rooms. If they could help disseminate that information, that would be useful.""

"Okay, Chief," he said, pulling himself up onto his crutches with some difficulty. "If you need me, call me. You know where I am."

Jon had just turned away from them when Lyanna - who had handed Barristan over to Jory - almost collided into him. She looked up, momentarily irritated, until she spotted it was Jon. Then, all tension disappeared from her face and she gave him a smile that shone as brightly as a sunrise on a spring day.

"Oh Jon! I am so sorry, I didn't see you there!" Her hands came to rest on his shoulders. "You move so quietly!"

The tension was palpable. Jon's shoulders grew incredibly tight and Lyanna's fingers seemed claw like, gripping hold of him as if she feared letting go. Time seemed to slow down until, eventually, Jon nodded awkwardly before limping out of her grasp. "Neither did I. I am going up to my room for a rest so, if you would kindly excuse me."

Lyanna's smile faded as Jon walked away, her big grey eyes following him as he crossed _The Winter Rose._ It was difficult to ignore. Although Brienne did not believe Other Robb was right in thinking that Lyanna fancied Jon, she definitely had an interest in him that exceeded disinterest. Trying to work this fact into the tapestry of information Brienne was slowly weaving about Lyanna, Brienne found her thoughts unfortunately interrupted by Lyanna herself, who quickly slipped on the mask of smart, professional hotelier as she turned to talk to the members of the Constabulary in front of her. From her expression, it was impossible to tell that anything untoward had happened to her over the last few days.

"I know you are all tremendously busy, but would you mind helping me for a moment?"

"Of course, Aunt Lyanna," said Robb, tilting his head to look up at her. "What do you need?"

"I need to send apologies out to the guests and instructions to keep to their rooms while the situation with the power is sorted. If you happen to pass any other guests, can you please spread the message around?" Robb was just about to answer her when the door to _The Winter Rose_ opened and Theon entered, his dark hair speckled with snow. Lyanna turned her attention to him at once. "Oh! Theon! There you are! The power has gone out and we need..."

Walking away from her guests, Lyanna went to join Theon by the door, leaving Brienne, Jaime, Robb, and Arya alone once again. The Casterly Constabulary's Chief shrugged her shoulders. "Well, we can help Lyanna while looking for Catelyn and Barbrey. Hopefully they will be in their rooms."

"I know where Mum's room is," volunteered Arya. "I can take you there, Chief."

"And Theon will probably tell me where Barbrey's room is if I ask her nicely," added Robb.

Everything seemed settled. "Well then," announced Brienne, "Arya and I will go and talk to Catelyn, and Jaime and Robb can go and hunt for Barbrey. I have a hunch she might be more receptive to talking to pretty men."

"I'm not pretty," huffed Robb, running his fingers through his moustache in an attempt to emphasise his manliness.

Jaime smirked. "Good luck I am then!"

Rolling her eyes affectionately at her husband's unshakeable self-confidence, Brienne got to her feet. "Well then, pretty boy. Go and see if you and Robb can get something approaching the truth out of Barbrey." She tapped Arya on the shoulder, and the young Constable quickly got to her feet. "And Arya and I will try to root the truth out of Catelyn."

"Casterly Constabulary to the rescue," smiled Jaime, standing up. "If anyone can crack the case, it is us."

Brienne went to nod at him earnestly, every inch the professional police office, but then Jaime leant in and kissed her on the cheek. She melted in the space of a heartbeat.

* * *

"Things are looking up between you and the missus, then?" smirked Robb as he and Jaime walked up the stairs to Barbrey's room. Luckily, Theon had been quite forthcoming with helping them find the number, so it had not taken them long to arrive on the third floor. However, Robb seemed to now be taking the opportunity to niggle at Jaime rather than focus on the task at hand.

Jaime shrugged dismissively, not wanting to reveal too much of his and Brienne's relationship. "Yeah, we've um... talked."

"Good," replied Robb, laughing through the word as he knew Jaime was trying to avoid the question. "I'm glad you've _talked._ It is important in these stressful times."

 _Yes,_ thought Jaime darkly. _You don't know_ how _stressful._

It wasn't just Howland's death that weighed heavily on Jaime's shoulders, but also his worries about Brienne, the pregnancy, and the birth. He had just about been holding himself together when Brienne had received the letter from Melara. At first, he had been sure it was a practical joke, but as the snows grew heavier, Jaime felt more and more uneasy. The blizzard brought an unearthly quiet to much of the hotel, and it made it feel haunted.

 _Someone is lingering in the shadows,_ he thought. _And I cannot quite name them._

"Are you alright?"

It took Jaime a few seconds to pull himself back into the moment and look at Robb, who was peering at him curiously. "Are you alright?" Robb repeated. "It seemed as if you zoned out for a bit."

"I was just thinking."

"About what?"

Jaime gave him a wry smile. "Brienne."

"Oh god," said Robb, rolling his eyes affectionately. "Here we go again."

Shaking his head, Jaime was just about to respond with his normal defence that Brienne was a wonderful person to think about, when Robb skidded to a halt. He pointed to the left at a door to a hotel room. The corridor was supremely quiet.

"This is it," announced Robb. "This is Barbrey's room. I heard she's a bit of a dragon, so..."

Jaime laughed. Although Robb was a tough police detective, he often cowed before a formidable woman. "Shall I knock, Stark?"

* * *

"You know, I never thought the role of Police Constable would entail interviewing my own mother," said Arya, as she and Brienne made their way up to Catelyn's room.

Brienne smiled at her young protege warmly. The thing she loved the most about her job was the new opportunities it provided her with every day, so she liked that Arya was bemused by the variety.

"Well, she's not a suspect... just a witness."

"A witness to what, though?" asked Arya teasingly. "On my first case for the Casterly Constabulary, I ended up walking through the water wells in the middle of the night, discovering the bodies of the victims of the NWA. What is my mother going to be witness to this time?"

"Not a village wide conspiracy, that's for sure," said Brienne, marvelling that Arya counted taking on the NWA as her first case for the Constabulary. "If anything, this whole situation feels intensely _personal,_ but I can't quite put my finger on why. Sure, Lyanna is hiding something, but I don't get the impression she murdered Howland. She just doesn't seem the type."

Arya nodded in agreement. "Yeah. I've known Lyanna my whole life and she couldn't murder someone. She has always been a little wild and spontaneous, but at the same time a little _sad..._ resigned, almost. She would not murder someone, because she's far too empathetic for that... and yet she is hiding something, and I don't know what."

"Well, let's hope your mum does," said Brienne as they reached Catelyn's door. Lifting her hand from her belly, she knocked on the door. "Otherwise, we might be at a bit of a dead end."

It did not take long for the door to swing open after Brienne had knocked. Catelyn's hair was wrapped up in a towel to dry and it appeared she had just changed after having a shower. She smiled when she saw who was waiting for her.

"Arya! Brienne! What are you both doing here?"

"We are just doing the rounds," said Arya casually. "Because the power has gone out, Lyanna wants everyone to know that it is best to stick to your room until they sort the issue out."

"That is lucky, because I had just got back after going to the Hot Springs," replied Catelyn. "I was planning on coming back and watching a bit of TV, so the power outage was a bit of a surprise."

"We were surprised too, we were in _The Winter Rose,_ " said Brienne with a smile. She always found it was better to butter up the interviewee before going in for the kill. "Perhaps not as surprised as Barristan Selmy, though. He nearly blew a gasket when he realised that a lack of Wi-Fi prevented him from being a very important politician."

Catelyn rolled her eyes. "Barristan has always thought he was more important than he is." She opened the door a little wider. "Do you to have somewhere else to be? Or would you like to come in? Although I cannot put the kettle on, I do have a nice selection of cold drinks in the minibar."

"That would be lovely, Catelyn," replied Brienne. "We have a few things we would like to talk to you about any way."

* * *

"What do you want?" snapped Barbrey the second she opened the door. She stunk of alcohol and cigarettes, and suspicion lingered in her eyes. "I was _asleep_."

"I am sorry, Ms Dustin, for the intrusion, but my name is Detective Sergeant Robb Stark and this is Sergeant Jaime Lannister-Tarth, and we would like..."

Slamming her hand against the lintel of the door, Barbrey rolled her eyes. It shut Robb up at once. "I know who you are, there is no need for the false niceties."

Robb deflated at Barbrey's sudden aggression, so Jaime decided to subtly take charge. "I am sorry for the inconvenience, but my colleague and I really do need to ask you some questions concerning..."

"Howland Reed, I suspect," barked Barbrey, cutting across him. "I thought it was only a matter of time; you've got nothing to go on with the forensic evidence so have decided rooting around his past is the best thing to do."

Given that Barbrey was clearly not going to make this easy for them, Jaime went to say something charming, but Robb interrupted. "A man has _died,_ Ms Dustin, we are not just after a few snippets of local gossip..."

"Well, you'd better come in then." Barbrey opened the door wider, then retreated inside. "I would offer you a drink from the minibar... but I've drunk them all."

* * *

There was something immensely civilised about perching on Catelyn's bed, with a cold Coca Cola, Arya Stark, and her phone that was recording the entire interview, while Catelyn sat on the other side of the room in an armchair, surveying them both. Catelyn's hands were clutched together quite tightly in her lap; if Brienne did not know better, she would have thought her nervous.

"Interview with Mrs Catelyn Stark on Sunday 19th November 2023. 3.15pm. Present Chief Inspector Brienne Lannister-Tarth and Constable Arya Stark of the Casterly Constabulary, and Mrs Stark herself. For the benefit of the recording, it should be noted that Mrs Stark and Constable Stark have a familial connection; Arya is Catelyn's daughter. Now, Mrs Stark, are you ready to talk to us?"

"Of course," said Catelyn, her tone steady even as she began to tap her feet on the carpet. "You can ask me anything you like."

* * *

"God, it _stinks_ in here," whispered Robb as the two Casterly police officers entered Barbrey's room. There were empty cans of beer from the minibar scattered all over the floor, and there were at least two ashtrays filled with cigarette buts.

Ignoring the faces his colleague was pulling, Jaime turned to the task at hand, knowing it was what Brienne would want him to do. "Ms Dustin," he said, turning the camera on his phone on in order to record her interview. "I have just started a recording so Detective Sergeant Stark and I can ask you a few questions about Howland Reed. It is Sunday 19th November 2023. 3.18pm."

"What brilliant detecting skills," said Barbrey, as she crossed the room and flung the window open. A bitter chill burst in, but Barbrey did not seem to mind. Instead, she located a pack of cigarettes and quickly lit one. Standing by the window, Barbrey appeared a dark shadow against the blaze of snow outside. The tip of her cigarette proved a singular burst of light. "Well?" she snapped. "Are you going to ask me any questions?"

Her glare was challenging and sharp, but nevertheless Jaime did not hold back from asking her what he needed to know.

"Can you tell me anything about the relationship between Howland Reed and Lyanna Stark?"

* * *

"Howland and Lyanna knew each other from a very young age," said Catelyn matter-of-factly. "In fact, when they were very little, they were very close. Like two peas in a pod. They had this particular game they liked called the _Knight of the Laughing Tree._ Nobody was really allowed to know the rules apart from them, but the secrets got out. It normally involved Howland pretending that he was being attacked by an evil monster and Lyanna coming to save him. Brandon used to tease Howland all the time about it; _you are the boy, you should be the one saving her,_ he would say, but Howland barely cared. He just liked spending time with Lyanna and she liked being the hero."

While Brienne nodded impassively, Arya giggled beside her. "Ooh, it is a bit like you and Jaime, Chief. He likes playing the damsel in distress to get your attention too."

Rolling her eyes at her subordinate, Brienne tried to ignore Arya's teasing expression (and the utter truth she was spouting) in order to get on with the job at hand. Even though it was still early, the winter sky was starting to take on a greyish tinge that evidenced evening was drawing in. They were running out of time.

"How old were Howland and Lyanna when they were close friends?"

* * *

"Mmm, maybe from about the age of seven or eight to their early teens," said Barbrey, puffing at her cigarette before flicking some bright orange ashes out of her window. "Then Lyanna got bored and decided she wanted to be cool."

Robb furrowed his brow. "What do you mean? Wanting to be cool doesn't sound much like Lyanna. She's always been so... independent."

Barbrey raised an eyebrow. "Do you even know your aunt, Stark?" she asked bitterly, before turning to look out the window once more. "Oh, I don't mean she changed her style or cut all her hair off or anything, just that she didn't want to run around in the forest playing _The Knight of the Giggling Tree_ or whatever anymore. Lyanna has always wanted to be a member of the fast crowd, even if she pretends not to. So that meant _bye bye_ Howland, even though the poor boy was totally besotted."

Robb clearly was not impressed with the description that Barbrey was giving him of his aunt, so went to argue back, but Jaime shot him a silencing look before he could do so. It was important that they squeezed out every detail they could from Barbrey - like and orange squished to a pulp - so there was no point in being antagonistic.

"Did Lyanna manage achieve her dream by dumping Howland?" asked Jaime, as Robb brandished his pen.

* * *

"Oh, don't take it to mean that I think Lyanna dumped Howland as a friend, oh no," said Catelyn. "Just that they drifted apart; people do, you know. In Howland and Lyanna's case, I think they just wanted different things."

Arya raised an eyebrow. "What different things?"

"Lyanna wanted to grow up," replied Catelyn with a shrug. "She didn't want to be running around the woods playing silly games anymore, whereas Howland still loved the magic of childhood. She started hanging out more with my group of friends. Some of us smoked; to the innocent, it looked cool." She let out a little laugh. "Believe me, I was an innocent once, and I saw it that way too."

Intrigued by Catelyn's slightly vague answers, Brienne pushed harder. "Your group?" she asked, furrowing her brow. "Who were your group?"

At the question, Catelyn's eyes seemed to go misty with nostalgia, her blue eyes glittering. "Mainly the people who hung around her older brother Brandon. If there was anything true about Casterly back in the day, it was that _everyone_ wanted to be Brandon's friend. He was fun and carefree and knew how to party. People called him the Wild Wolf opposite Ned's Quiet Wolf; he was the type to set the world alight."

* * *

"Why did they call him the Wild Wolf?" asked Jaime. When he had first returned to Casterly and was paired with Ned as his partner, he had heard Ned jokingly referred to as the _Quiet Wolf_ before but had never realised that it was only one side of the coin.

To his surprise, Barbrey smirked. "Oh, I'm sure Barristan or Lyanna or Catelyn or any of the other idiots that used to hang around him like a bad smell will tell you that it was because he was fun and carefree and used to drink like a fish, but they would be wrong."

Robb and Jaime shared an uncertain glance. It was clear the former did not like where this story was going, given that it was verging on besmirching his dead uncle, but Jaime pushed ahead. "What was the reason for his nickname, then?"

"Brandon's chief talent was sowing his wild oats," said Barbrey bitterly. Once more, she looked out of the window, her iron grey hair blowing in the cold air. "He had a thing for the ladies, and could never keep it in his pants. While he played the devoted boyfriend with Catelyn, he was sleeping with Ashara behind her back... and also with me."

* * *

"Brandon and I were together for a long time." Catelyn's expression turned wistful as she spoke of him, her voice dreamy. "We met when we were young and naive. Brandon was tall and handsome, with dark hair and piercing grey eyes. Everybody wanted to be his friend, everybody wanted to be his _girlfriend,_ but he never had eyes for anyone other than me... at least... not when we first started."

"That sounds very romantic," said Brienne, even as Arya pulled a horrified face at the fact that her mum was talking sweetly about anyone else other than her dad. "You must have loved him very much."

Catelyn smiled softly with a hint of sadness. "Oh, I did. Very much indeed."

* * *

"He was always full of life, Brandon. Him and Lyanna ran together like a pair of centaurs, taking anything they wanted. She may play the prim and proper hotelier now, but at the time the two of them were thick as thieves. It annoyed Catelyn, I think, that she could not monopolise Brandon's attention all the time because he was always hanging around with his sister. I think that was what caused her and Brandon to break up in the end, that she would never be his one and only. Not in the way she could be poor dead Ned's one and only anyway."

At the mention of _poor dead Ned,_ Jaime had to reach across and grab Robb by the arm to stop him throwing himself at Barbrey in fury. "Calm down," hissed Jaime, as Barbrey smirked at the in amusement. Only once Robb was subdued with a firm glare did Jaime turn back to Barbrey. "What does this all have to do Howland Reed?"

Barbrey's smile sharpened. "Everything. Because if you want to find somebody who would have a motive for murdering Howland at _The Winterfell_ to make Lyanna look guilty as sin, your answer is Catelyn."

* * *

"But love can't last forever," said Catelyn, her wistful tone becoming muted. "When I was eighteen, I discovered that Brandon... was not exactly faithful to me."

Arya let out a dramatic gasp. "Uncle Brandon _cheated on you?"_

Catelyn nodded. "Yes, with Ashara Dayne."

"With who?" asked Arya confusedly.

"Ashara Dayne, one of Lyanna's friends," replied Catelyn. "She was a year younger than me, but breathtakingly gorgeous with cascades of dark hair and deep violet eyes. She used to hang out with Lyanna and Wylla, but she was truly the knockout of the three of them. If I'm honest... I hated the cow."

In spite of this being a very serious police interview, Brienne let out an awkward little laugh which she tried to disguise as a cough. "You hated her? For stealing your boyfriend?"

"Yes. It was Howland that broke the news to me after his discovered Ashara and Brandon together in a cupboard at the Tower of Joy during one of Brandon's more wild parties. Although I knew Brandon had always been a flirt, I could not understand why Ashara had done it. I had thought we got on, were perhaps even friends. At the time, everybody thought she had a thing with Barristan Selmy, and even if she didn't, there were other men on the planet." Although Catelyn had managed to keep her composure up to the point, her voice cracked when she next spoke. "Why him? Why did she have to steal _my_ boyfriend?"

* * *

"Catelyn almost lost her damn mind," said Barbrey, smirking as she told the story. "Howland told her the truth of it at a house party at Wylla's, and honest to god I thought she was going to kill someone. She had got hold of this broom from somewhere, and she hit Brandon with it at least six times, and looked like she was going to knock Ashara's head off with it until Lyanna got between them. That made Catelyn even more angry, because Lyanna was trying to tell her to calm down and deal with this somewhere more privately." Barbrey continued her story with a semi-decent impression of Catelyn. " _Calm down? Why would I calm down?_ she kept screaming. _That bitch stole my boyfriend! And why are you taking her side, Lyanna?_ It was at that point that Howland got involved and told Catelyn to stop shouting at Lyanna, because it wasn't Lyanna's fault. Poor boy: he got a whack with the broom for that."

Robb chuckled, deep and proud. "Go Mum."

"She did," replied Barbrey like a whip crack. "I caught her crying on Ned's shoulder not half an hour later. They were a couple within a month."

* * *

"It was easier once I was with Ned, because I could decide who I wanted in my life and who I didn't," said Catelyn, getting up from the armchair to pace around the room. There was a tension in her gait that Brienne had not seen before. "I cut Ashara out, of course, and Brandon was wise enough to keep his distance. Lyanna kept insisting on defending Brandon, but she went off to university in London once the year was out so I did not really need to see her. I did not have to see Howland much, either, because he kept going up to London to see Lyanna."

"Why?" asked Arya. "Were they still close?"

Catelyn stopped her pacing and turned to look at her daughter. She thought on her answer for a moment, before responding. "I think Howland always might have had a little crush on Lyanna; he sounded quite resentful when he came back to Casterly and told Ned about the blond guy with the violet eyes who studied Art History at Lyanna's university, who played her sad songs on his guitar. I tried not to see much of Howland though, as he was... against the idea of Ned and I being together, considering I had been with Brandon before. Ned and I stood by each other - we knew what we had together - and we did not listen to any objections. It wasn't as if Brandon minded anyway. He was already chasing new skirts..."

* * *

As the winds grew stronger, Barbrey stubbed out her cigarette and the shut the window. The smell of stale beer and ash came back stronger.

"After Brandon and Catelyn ended things, I thought that would be my chance." There was something sad in Barbrey's tone that remained Jaime of a time in his own life when he had pined for Brienne and she had barely noticed. "Brandon and I were basically a couple anyway; he... he... was the one who took my virginity. I still remember the look of my blood on his cock the night he claimed me. I think Brandon liked the sight as well."

While Barbrey's expression turned wistful, Robb Stark looked faintly disgusted. "Okay, Ms Dustin, you don't have to be _that_ graphic."

"Oh I do," said Barbrey. She took two steps forward so she could stand in front of him, and Jaime noticed they were almost of a height. "You need to understand what mine and Brandon's relationship was like; passionate, visceral, hot. What did Ashara Dayne have that I could not give him?"

Although it was Barbrey herself who had posed the question, there was something in her tone that suggested she already knew the answer. "What _did_ Ashara Dayne have that you couldn't give him?" asked Jaime.

Barbrey turned away from Robb to look at Jaime, and her eyes were filled with a sadness that Jaime did not think her capable of. She stepped back towards the window in order to strike another cigarette; it seemed they operated as a kind of strange comfort blanket for her that only worked with continuous use.

"She got pregnant, that's what," said Barbrey. Her voice grew cracked and heavy with emotion as she delivered the truth. "Pregnant."

* * *

"Mine and Ned's relationship went from strength to strength," announced Catelyn, a smile coming back to her face at the mention of her husband. "Before long, I got pregnant with Robb. I was the first one of the group to do so... apart from Ashara, of course, but she moved out of Casterly to live with her brother Arthur in Lannisport the moment everyone found out. It was as if she had something to hide."

There was an invite to poke further in that statement, which Arya took up with relish. "Did she had something to hide?"

Catelyn shrugged, then looked at the floor. "I don't know."

"Mum," said Arya warningly. "Did she have something to hide?"

Catelyn sighed, then looked back up at her daughter. Brienne could tell it caused her a lot of pain. "Perhaps. A few months after Ashara disappeared off to Lannisport, a baby was abandoned outside the Tower of Joy, the Dayne's cottage in the Wolfswood just outside Casterly. Howland and Ned were the ones who discovered him, and Ned brought him home and we looked after him for six months. Ned said there was no connection, and he did not know who the child's parents were, but I couldn't help but be suspicious."

"Wait, so you think Ashara Dayne was this kid's mother?" asked Arya, shocked.

"Maybe," replied Catelyn. "She was pregnant and then she moved away. Some people said she lost the baby and then had a mental breakdown, but what if she _abandoned_ her baby and then had a mental breakdown?"

Listening to this incredible story, Brienne narrowed her eyes at Catelyn. There was something familiar in this tale, as if this were ground that she had trodden before. Thinking carefully, Brienne tried to remember where she had heard this story before, where these characters had coalesced before...

"Wait!" said Brienne suddenly. "Are we talking about _Jon Snow,_ here? Are you saying that Ashara Dayne was Jon's mother?"

Even as Arya goggled at Brienne's suggestion, Catelyn nodded. "He was given the surname Snow because there was frost on the ground that night, even though it was August. And Jon... he was named Jon after Ned's first police partner. Howland was his police partner at the time he discovered Baby Jon, of course, but he wanted to honour his friend."

As Catelyn's fantastic tale settled in the air, Brienne shot a glance at Arya, who was staring at her mother bemusedly. Working her jaw, Arya searched around for the right words, the right thing to challenge this ridiculous story.

"But if Ashara was the mother, who was the father?"

* * *

"Ashara moved away, and I was scared Brandon would go with her," said Barbrey. Her grey gaze wore a strange pain, that Jaime thought may indicate oncoming tears. "But he said he loved _me_ , so wouldn't leave Casterly."

"So he stayed with you and broke up with Ashara?" asked Jaime, wildly trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

"Not quite," admitted Barbrey. "While he did not go with Ashara, he did not break up with her either. Instead, he tried to stay in Casterly and pretend that everything was as it had been before. Yet it _couldn't_ be what it was before. Barristan had moved to London to try his hand to politics. Lyanna had come back from university, sad and morose and _different._ Ned and Cat were married. Even Brandon and me had changed, because I was no longer happy with putting up with second best... and neither was Arthur Dayne."

Robb looked up confusedly at this sudden change in the story. "Arthur Dayne? What has he got to do with anything?"

"Arthur did not think it right that Brandon got his sister pregnant then ran away without providing support. He returned to Casterly in order to confront him, and the two of them somehow ended up in a car that night..." From his own shady memories, Jaime was able to put images to Barbrey's words. "The stupid thing flipped on a bend and killed them both on the road between Lannisport and Casterly." A single tear rolled down her cheek, which she swiftly wiped away. "People blamed drink driving, but I knew they were arguing; about the baby, about child support, about _her_."

There was a moment of silence after that confession, in which Jaime and Robb just stared at the wreck of a woman in front of them. Although he was meant to be approaching this as a police officer, Jaime could not help but feel a pang of pity for Barbrey. She had lost the man she loved in a brutal way and had seemingly never recovered.

Robb did not seem to have such sentimental feelings, though.

"What has any of this got to do with my mum hating Lyanna and Howland so much that she would frame one for the other's murder?"

* * *

"I initially thought Jon's father was Brandon," said Catelyn, the tension in her voice palpable. "He had cheated on me with her, after all... but then... I don't know... then I started to doubt that..."

Brienne looked at Arya, hoping to share a glance of uncertainty, but Arya had always jumped onto the next question. "Why?"

"Your father," started Catelyn without a moment of hesitation. "He went to Arthur's funeral and let Ashara _weep_ on his shoulder. I watched her sink her claws into him and I started to wonder... she had stolen my boyfriend once, maybe she would do it again."

Brienne blinked confusedly. "You think that _Ned_ was Jon's father?"

"Him, Lyanna, and Howland were certainly very _secretive_ about it." Catelyn cracked her knuckles, and it sounded strangely menacing. "I begged Lyanna and Howland to tell me what they knew about Jon, but they refused. Apparently, loyalty to Ned was more important than the truth. In fact, Lyanna got quite furious about me asking her at one point, and started screaming at me for meddling in things that were none of my business. Howland tried to defend her, and nobody saw _my_ side of the argument. Ned would tell me nothing about Jon. In fact, the only time I was ever scared of him was when I insisted that I could no longer look after Jon considering the rumours and that Ned should put him into care. Ned obliged me for the sake of our marriage, but he insisted that I should never mention Ashara or Jon in his presence again. His voice was like ice, and it near broke my heart in two. Ashara Dayne had stolen my love from me once, and Lyanna, Howland, and Ned kept the truth from me regarding my second. _I_ was the wronged party, and yet they all acted as if they were the ones injured."

Concluding her story, Catelyn began to dab at the corners of her eyes with her sleeve. At any other time, Brienne might have reached out and comforted her, but the story Catelyn had just told was so shocking that she could barely compute.

It was a thousand times worse for Arya.

"Wait a second," she said, a nervous laugh wrapped around her words. "Are you trying to tell me that Jon is my half-brother?"

* * *

"Catelyn got so angry, because she thought that Ned, Lyanna, and Howland were conspiring to keep the truth about the father of Ashara's child secret from her, but she was always so stupid." Barbrey shook her head. "Ned was head over heels for her from the moment they met, and that woman seriously got it into her head that he had cheated on her with Ashara. What rot. Ashara's baby was _Brandon's,_ and Catelyn was too stupid and paranoid to see it. And now, she's taken out her years old resentment on Howland just because she _can._ "

While Jaime thought this information was interesting and needed serious analysis considering Howland had just been murdered, Robb Stark did not seem to understand. He had bigger fish to fry.

"Hey!" he said, raising his voice. "Are you calling my mother a _murderer?"_

All sadness in Barbrey's expression evaporated, and she returned to her previous malice. "Yes, I am Detective Sergeant Stark, and a _stupid_ murderer at that."

Robb was not a calm person at the best of times, but that accusation really got his back up.

"You have no evidence! No evidence at all!"

"And neither do you," slapped back Barbrey, stepping forward in a way that was both aggressive and strangely terrifying. "As far as I can see it, Catelyn Stark is the only one in this whole hotel who has reason to hate Lyanna and Howland, and it would be just like her to nurse a grudge."

"Or it would be just like you!" Robb puffed up to his full height, inflating his chest like an overproud gorilla heading into battle. "You have just spent the last half an hour pouring out every resentment you still hold for all the people you grew up with, and you dare to say that _my mum_ is the one who knows how to nurse a grudge. It seems to me like you are blaming her because she had your beloved Brandon in a way you never did! Officially! Above board!"

"Robb!" squawked Jaime. "We are trying to conduct an interview..."

"You are just as stupid as your mother if you believe that Stark," snapped back Barbrey, her voice rising into a shout. "Lyanna and Howland never did shit to me, why would I want to hurt _either_ of them?"

"Because you are a vindictive bitch who doesn't know when to stop!"

"Robb," said Jaime exasperatedly, holding up an arm between Barbrey and Robb to keep them apart. "You've got to..."

"Is everything alright in here?"

* * *

Catelyn's eyes held all the sadness of the waning moon.

"I don't know, Arya. I have my suspicions, but only a DNA test could reveal for certain who Jon's father is. But one thing is for sure: Ashara Dayne is his mother, she abandoned him in the woods, and your father, Lyanna, and Howland decided to help cover it up."

A silence settled, so strong and certain that Brienne knew there were no more questions that needed to be asked.

"Interview terminated at 3.47pm."

* * *

It took Jaime a few seconds to recognise the guest who had snuck in through the ajar door. It was Sarah Lemore, the editor of the _Casterly Citizen._ Her platinum blonde hair was tied up in a high ponytail and she looked as plastic as ever, what with all the botoxes, cosmetic surgeries, and skin treatments she had had. She was carrying a towel under her arm.

 _Perhaps she is thinking of visiting the Hot Springs,_ mused Jaime.

"Everything is fine," announced Jaime, knowing it was the only way to stop Robb and Barbrey ripping strips out of each other. "Detective Sergeant Stark and I were just concluding an interview with Ms Dustin." Jaime stole a look at the clock. "Interview terminated at 3.52pm."

After he turned the recording off, Jaime looked at Sarah only to discover she had a soft smile on her face. "Oh, that is alright then, because I thought I heard... shouting." There was something predatorial in the gaze that accompanied her announcement - which Jaime put down to her being a journalist - so he knew he had to cut her off. Luckily, Robb beat him to it.

"There was no shouting; Barbrey was just insulting my mother, that's all!"

"And I will insult her some more, if you want, because this is my room, and I can say what I like!"

Jaime sighed. Every single stage of this interview had been an absolute mess, and Brienne was going to be so disappointed that he had barely got anything salvageable out of it. He knew he had to repair the breach, but he did not quite know how.

"Ms Dustin, I..."

"No, I have had quite enough of you and your partner!" declared Barbrey, holding her head high. "You can get out of here right now and take that blonde busy-body with you too!"

Before Jaime could get a word in edgeways to object, Barbrey was shooing the three of them out of the door, and Jaime nearly tripped over at least two beer cans as his did so. It was all forward motion on Barbrey's part until she managed to chivvy them out of the door to her hotel room, when she abruptly stopped and caught Sarah's arm with her hand. Jaime could not help but notice the way Sarah's hairs stood on end, as if she was anticipating a fight.

"Wait a second," said Barbrey slowly, blinking at Sarah confusedly. "Don't I know you from somewhere?"

There was a moment of silence, ripe and burdensome, before Sarah let out a little tinkling laugh and shook her head. "Of course not. I've never met you before in my life."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," replied Sarah smartly. "You are quite a woman, Barbrey. I am sure if we had met before, I would remember." After that saccharine little comment, Sarah wiggled her arm out of Barbrey's grip and smiled sweetly at her. "Now, if you don't mind, I am going to go down to the Hot Springs. I suppose I will see you later."

Sarah nodded at both Jaime and Robb before spinning away and marching down the corridor, and Jaime could not help but think there was something shifty in how quickly she had departed the conversation. Nevertheless, he turned back to Barbrey, because it was _her_ that was the most important piece in the puzzle in the current case.

"Ms Dustin, I..."

"I have had enough of both of you," Barbrey snapped angrily, her scowl still plastered on her face. "I do not wish to speak to you anymore. Good afternoon."

And she slammed the door in their faces without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! As you can tell, a lot of this is based on both Catelyn's recollections of Ned throughout her chapters in ASOIAF, Meera's story about the Knight of the Laughing Tree from ASOS, and the conversation Theon and Barbrey have in ADWD. I hope you enjoyed the adaptation, and please let me know what you think. I appreciate every single comment!


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